The Man He Used To Be
by Sparkle731
Summary: STORY IS COMPLETE! Starsky faces the biggest challenge of his life, recovering from Gunther’s attack. Can he fight his way back from the edge of death and be the man he used to be? Major tissue warning in spots.
1. Chapter 1

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**Starsky faces the biggest challenge of his life, recovering from Gunter's attack. Can he fight his way back from the edge of death and be the man he used to be?**

**Author's Note: Since the first few chapters will follow the actual events from the episode "Sweet Revenge", some excerpts from that story line will be used. However, this story will focus more on Starsky's time in the hospital and long recovery afterwards, as well as Hutch's emotions during that period of time more than it will the actual search for Gunter. **

**CHAPTER ONE**

It was a beautiful sunny day in southern California. The kind of day to forget everything and spend an afternoon at the beach. The temperature was in the high eighties even though it was still early in the morning and the sky was relatively free from smog. Despite the attraction of other activities, for Starsky and Hutch the job came first.

The squad room was in disarray because it was being painted. The long tables that were normally used as desks had been folded and leaned up against the walls and tarps were spread everywhere. One painter stood on a ladder covering a wall with the same obnoxious green that most institutional facilities seemed to favor. A second painter was sitting in a corner eating an early lunch. Someone had pulled the ping-pong table from the break room into the squad room. To pass time until they got a call, Starsky and Hutch were indulging in a game of "Trivia" Ping-Pong. The loser had to buy the winner a three-course meal at a restaurant of their choice. It had been a close game but Starsky had managed to score the winning point.

The two detectives left the squad room arguing good naturedly about Starsky winning the bet. As they left the building through the rear door that opened into the parking lot behind the station, Starsky said with a smirk,

"You owe me a dinner, buddy boy."

"Well, a bet's a bet," Hutch agreed, as the two men walked past a row of black and white cruisers parked along the side of the building and started to cross the lot to the Torino.

"All right!" Starsky gloated gleefully. He had expected Hutch to put up more of an argument.

"Hey, look….as long as I'm buying, why don't we pick a date? How about tomorrow?" Hutch suggested

"Tomorrow? Sounds great."

"How about five in the morning?" Hutch said with a grin as he stepped around to the passenger's side of the car and waited patiently for Starsky to dig his keys out of his skin-tight jeans.

"No way," Starsky told him. "You owe me a three-course dinner."

"What? Hamburger, fries and a chocolate shake, huh?" Hutch teased him affectionately.

"No way," Starsky told him defensively. "I'm talking about a broiled lobster maybe or a New York Steak."

"Come on. Hurry up," Hutch said impatiently waiting for Starsky to unlock the car doors.

"What's your hurry?" Starsky asked as he fumbled with his keys. "It's not every day you can buy your best friend a three course meal." He flashed a grin at Hutch over the roof of the Torino.

Hutch's attention was drawn to the sound of metal scraping against metal. He glanced over towards the building in time to see a black and white cruiser pull forward, the rear quarter panel hitting the front fender of the cruiser parked beside it. The blond watched as the barrel of a gun suddenly appeared in the window on the passenger's side of the cruiser.

"STARSKY!" Hutch screamed frantically, reaching for his own weapon and automatically dropping to his knees beside the body of the Torino. "GET DOWN!"

Gunshots filled the air, followed by the sound of shattering glass and bullets slamming into the metal body of the Torino. Tires squealed shrilly as the cruiser accelerated and roared out of the parking lot. Hutch fired three shots after the retreating vehicle but it was moving too fast for his aim to be accurate. Bouncing to his feet, it suddenly registered in his mind that he hadn't heard any answering gunfire from Starsky's weapon.

"STARSKY!" he yelled desperately as he shot another round at the fleeing cruiser. "STARSK!" he shouted again, his voice even more frantic when he didn't get an answer from his partner. His heart pounded with fear, slamming against his chest like a sledge hammer. Dropping his weapon to his side, he ran around the front of the Torino and stopped dead.

Hutch felt the color draining from his face and he felt like he'd been hit in the stomach with a wreaking ball. His partner and best friend lay crumbled on the ground beside the car, his body curled in a fetal position with his head resting in the rear wheel well. Blood was rapidly pooling on the ground beneath him, pouring from wounds in his chest and abdomen. Starsky had been caught in the direct line of fire, trapped on the driver's side of the car with no place to hide.

The parking lot broke into chaos as other officers came running out of the building attracted by the sound of gunfire. Hutch didn't even notice the shouts and curses that filled the air as he slumped down to the ground beside his fallen partner. He was afraid to touch Starsky, afraid of what he would find. Then instinct took over and his trembling fingers reached out to press against the side of Starsky's neck, searching frantically for a pulse. He found one but it was weak and erratic.

Gently, Hutch eased Starsky's head and shoulders into his lap, using his hands to press down against the terrible wounds in his chest, trying to stop the blood pouring out of his body. Other officers had arrived at the scene and were frantically trying to help, pressing jackets and bare hands against the wounds to slow the loss of blood. Hutch heard someone yelling that an ambulance was on the way but his attention was focused solely on his partner who could be dying right in front of his eyes.

Starsky's face was pale, his eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow and labored. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth in a frothy foam that indicated a direct hit to his lung. Hutch could hear the gurgling sound deep in Starsky's chest as he struggled to draw in each breath. He'd heard that sound too many times in his career. It meant that Starsky was drowning in his own blood as it filled his lungs.

"Please God…." Hutch whispered, the tears that burned his eyes beginning to fall down his cheeks. "Not now….not like this. Don't die on me, Starsk. Please don't die…" Hutch knew his prayers were futile. It was out of his hands. Starsky's fate rested in the hands of a much higher power now.

"The ambulance should be here soon," someone that Hutch didn't bother trying to identify said.

"Starsky's tough." another person commented. "He'll make it. You'll see."

The wail of an approaching ambulance drowned out the voices around him. The sound was cut off abruptly as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot. The emergency vehicle screeched to a halt a few feet away and two paramedics jumped out, running to the fallen man lying on the pavement. Hutch felt hands on his arms, trying to pull him away from his injured partner.

"Come on, son…let the paramedics take care of him now," Captain Dobey's voice said soothingly as he tried to pull the tall blond to his feet.

"NO! HE NEEDS ME! I HAVE TO STAY WITH HIM!" Hutch yelled, trying to fight the hands that pulled at him insistently.

Reluctantly, Dobey gestured for assistance and three other officers stepped forward to help pull Hutch away from Starsky's side. Hutch cried out in despair and struggled against the hands that held him, hands that pulled him to his feet and away from Starsky. Dobey held Hutch's arm firmly, holding him back and keeping him from falling back on his knees beside his partner.

"Let them do their job, Ken," Dobey said quietly, his own eyes watering with tears at the tragedy unfolding in front of him. Like every other officer gathered there he knew that Starsky's chances of survival were slim at best. Starsky was losing too much blood much too quickly. His body was torn apart by the bullets.

The paramedics worked rapidly to access Starsky's condition and to stabilize him for transport to the hospital. Time was of the essence. An oxygen mask was put over his nose and mouth, and IV's were started. Pressure dressings were slapped over the wounds to prevent both blood loss and to keep air from getting into the chest cavity. An EKG monitor showed Sinus Tachycardia caused by the severe blood loss he had already suffered.

Without any time to waste, the two paramedics carefully lifted Starsky onto the gurney and started to lift it into the back of the ambulance to rush him to the hospital.

"Give me that bag of Lactated Ringers." the dark haired paramedic yelled at his partner as he started a second IV. "He's bleeding out! We gotta move or we'll gonna lose him!" The ominous words echoed in Hutch's ears as he watched the doors to the ambulance closing.

"Come on, son…" Dobey said. "I'll drive you to the hospital." He could feel the tall blond's body trembling beneath his touch as he guided Hutch over to his car and helped him inside. Several other officers rushed towards their own vehicles to accompany their fallen comrade to the hospital.

Hutch slumped down in the front seat of Dobey's car and buried his face in his hands, silent sobs racking his body as they raced towards the closest hospital with a trauma unit. Dobey threw worried glances at the man beside him. He recognized the early signs of shock and he knew in his heart that he stood the risk of losing not just one good officer but two. If Starsky didn't survive then neither would Hutch. They were too close, their lives too intertwined with each other.

Every man and woman who pinned on the badge knew the risk they faced every day. Dobey had lost his own partner several years ago and had never gotten over the loss completely. He had the love of his wife and his family to help him deal with his grief and loss but Hutch didn't really have anyone except his friends in the department to stand by him. He was estranged from his own family who didn't approve of him deciding to become a cop instead of following in his father's footsteps. Starsky and Hutch had both had some close calls in the past but never anything like this. Dobey said a silent prayer that Starsky wouldn't die on the way to the hospital.

Although Dobey had never admitted it to the two detectives, Starsky and Hutch were his favorite team and he cared about them as if they were part of his own family. He knew that the sight of Starsky lying on that pavement surrounded by a pool of his own blood would be branded on his brain for the rest of his life. Captain Dobey was a religious man and he believed in miracles. He knew that Starsky's life was now in God's hands and that God would be the one to decide if he lived or died.

Without a second thought, he reached over and laid a comforting hand on Hutch's thigh. "He's gonna be okay, Ken. Starsky won't give up without a fight." Dobey said, using Hutch's first name deliberately to focus his attention. "But he's gonna need you right there beside him fighting too."

Any further words Dobey had planned to say were cut off as he pulled into the driveway at Memorial Hospital. Hutch was out of the car and running towards the emergency room entrance before Dobey had a chance to come to a complete stop. Slamming on his brakes, he threw open his door and hurried after the distraught blond, moving remarkably fast for a man of his bulk.

Inside the emergency room, he found Hutch at the receptionist's desk demanding to see Starsky.

"He's a cop! He was shot just a little while ago!" Hutch said in a loud voice, ignoring the fact that he was in a hospital. "He's my partner and I want to see him! Now where the hell is he?"

The nurse on duty looked uncomfortable as she said, "Sir, if you will just have a seat over there….I'm sure someone will be out to talk to you soon."

Stepping up behind him Dobey put a gentle hand on Hutch's shoulder and said quietly "Let's sit down, son. They'll tell us how he is as soon as they know anything."

"C..C..aptain…." Hutch said, the stutter that only appeared when he was upset or under stress making him stumble over his words "I have to be in there with him. I can't let him d..d..ie alone…."

Hutch's words tore at the Captain's heart. He knew how Hutch felt but he knew that the medical staff would never allow it. Their eyes met and they each saw the pain and fear reflected there. Hutch's shoulders slumped in defeat as he meekly followed his Captain over to one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room and sat down at his side. Hutch didn't even notice several other people sitting in the waiting room blanching at the sight of his blood stained clothes. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he bowed his head, closed his eyes and prayed harder than he had ever prayed in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**A/N: Many thanks to Dawn Rice from the Love of Me and Thee yahoo group for her invaluable help with the medical information for this story. Thanks also to Audrey and everyone else who supplied useful medical information. In addition, I would also like to thank Dawn Rice for beta reading this story.**

**CHAPTER TWO**

Hutch stared into the cup of coffee he held in his hand. It was cold by now. His weary eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been almost eight hours and there was still no word from any of the doctors about Starsky's condition. Hutch knew that he would have been told by now if Starsky was dead. The waiting was starting to grate on his nerves. He could feel a tension headache building up behind his eyes.

The waiting room was filled with fellow police officers who had joined the vigil. Captain Dobey and Minnie Kaplan, the resident computer whiz at headquarters, were keeping busy making sure that everyone had coffee or soft drinks.

A nurse walked over to Hutch and smiled, holding out a neatly folded set of surgical scrubs. "I thought you might like to change your clothes. Some of the other visitors are getting upset because of the bloodstains. I can take them down to the laundry for you and have them washed."

Hutch looked up into the nurse's compassionate brown eyes and nodded his head absently. Accepting the clean clothes from her, he shoved himself to his feet and stumbled down the hallway to the men's room.

Pausing in front of one of the sinks, he turned on the water, adjusting it to a comfortable temperature. Holding his hands underneath the spray of water, he watched in a detached way as the water turned red, rinsing the traces Starsky's blood from his skin. Raising his head, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the stranger's face that stared back at him. The big blond's shoulders began to shake with silent sobs as he lowered his head and struggled to contain his fear and his grief. The image of Starsky's body lying on the pavement beside the Torino played over and over in his mind like an endless loop of tape. He had never felt more alone or terrified in his life.

Finally pulling himself together, he took off his bloody shirt and jeans, changing into the scrubs. He stuffed his bloody clothing into a plastic laundry bag the nurse had given him. Turning back to the sink, he turned on the cold water and cupped his hands beneath the faucet. He splashed some cold water on his face to try and clear his head before returning to the waiting room.

When he returned to his seat, Minnie sat down in the chair beside him and handed him a fresh cup of coffee. "Here you go, Sugar," she said quietly. "I put in lots of sugar and cream….just the way you like it."

"Thanks, Minnie," Hutch told her with a feeble smile. He didn't bother to correct her. That was the way Starsky preferred his coffee and Hutch had just gotten in the habit of drinking it that way, since they shared the same cup most of the time anyway. It was just one of the routines they had fallen into over the years just like stealing food off each others plate or borrowing each others clothes. As a sudden hush fell over the room, Hutch glanced up to see a doctor dressed in surgical scrubs walking down the hallway towards them. The tall blond held his breath as he waited for the doctor to speak.

"Family for David Starsky?" the doctor asked, as his eyes swept over the crowded waiting area. Hutch and Captain Dobey both immediately stepped forward. The doctor frowned slightly, realizing immediately that neither of these men resembled his patient enough to be related to him.

"I'm Captain Dobey of the Bay City Police Department. Sergeant Starsky is one of my men and this is his partner, Sergeant Hutchinson. How is he?"

"Why don't we go somewhere we can talk privately?" the doctor said, gesturing for them to follow him back down the hallway.

Hutch took a deep breath as he followed the doctor. He braced himself, knowing that the news was not going to be good. The doctor led the way to a small room that was used primarily to talk privately to friends and family members of critically injured patients. As the three men stepped inside, the doctor motioned for Dobey and Hutch to have a seat. They sat down on a black leather sofa and looked at the doctor expectantly.

Sighing softly, the doctor pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a seat in a black leather chair sitting adjacent to the sofa. Looking at the worried, anxious faces in front of him, he said, "My name is Dr. Riley and I am one of the surgeons that operated on Sergeant Starsky. He's still alive but he's suffered massive damage to his chest and abdomen. We've managed to stop the bleeding and remove the bullet fragments but with the damage he's suffered…it's highly unlikely that he'll survive. By all rights, he should be dead, but he's not. His heart stopped twice during surgery and we managed to get him back but he's still not breathing on his own."

"But there's still a chance as long as he's still alive. Isn't there?" Dobey asked as the doctor's words sank in.

"There's always a chance and I don't want to take that hope away from you" Dr Riley said solemnly "But the human body can only withstand so much damage. Any family members should be notified immediately and you might want to think about making him a no code. If his heart stops again, it might be more humane to just let him go in peace."

"NO!" Hutch snapped sharply. "We have medical power of attorney for each other and I won't allow you to do that!" Hutch looked at the doctor, his ice blue eyes warning the doctor not to push the issue.

"Can you tell us exactly what the injuries were?" Captain Dobey asked. He lay a hand on Hutch's shoulder to calm him until the doctor had a chance to tell them everything.

"Sergeant Starsky was hit four times by high caliber bullets in the torso. One bullet entered his left shoulder, causing massive tissue and muscle damage. As it exited through his back, it shattered his shoulder blade. A second bullet entered his body just under his left nipple. This bullet shattered two ribs on impact and broke into fragments. The bullet fragments and shattered pieces of bone from the broken ribs caused severe damage to his left lung. That lung collapsed, filling with blood." The doctor watched their faces as he carefully explained the damages caused by the bullets. Once he was certain they were processing the information, he continued, "A third bullet entered his right side just below his waist and exited through his left side just below his ribcage. That bullet ruptured his spleen, causing massive internal bleeding. It also tore open his lower intestine and caused the contents of his bowel to seep into his abdominal cavity. The fourth bullet entered his lower back, close to his spinal column, and exited through his stomach, causing major damage to the stomach itself." The doctor paused. This was the part of his job that he hated the most. Doctors were not miracle workers and there was only so much they could do, especially in cases as serious as this one. "All we can do now is wait and see how well his body responds to treatment. I think time is going to be the key factor here. We're doing all we can, but to be honest with you---I'm not sure it's going to be enough." Doctor Riley looked at the two men sadly.

"Can I see him?" Hutch asked trying to keep his voice level and calm but the crack in it was still noticeable. His emotions were in turmoil. Although the doctor's words were pretty much what Hutch had been expecting him to say, it still hurt to hear them said out loud.

"It will be a couple of hours before he's settled into a room in the ICU. I'll have one of the nurses come and get you when he is. But you need to prepare for what you will see," the doctor explained. "He's on a ventilator because he isn't breathing on his own, he has several IVs and a colostomy. He's also hooked up to a lot of different machines that are monitoring his vital signs. He's in a coma, so he won't be able to respond to you." Shoving himself to his feet, he waited while the two men did the same. He could see the devastation in their faces at his news and he hated being the one to put that expression in their eyes.

Hutch mutely allowed Captain Dobey to guide him back to the waiting room. The big blond was stunned and in shock. Blackness fell over him as he thought about a life without Starsky. Without Starsky, he had no life, at least not one worth living. Hutch made a solemn vow to hunt down whoever did this and bring them to justice. It would be the last thing he did for his fallen partner.

When they walked back into the waiting room, one look at Hutch's face was all it took for his fellow officers to know that the news was not good.

Captain Dobey helped Hutch over to a sofa at the far end of the room and left him to Minnie's care. Turning to face the other officers gathered around the room, the burly black man said quietly in a voice that was even gruffer than usual, "It doesn't look good. The doctors don't expect Starsky to pull through. I want everybody back out there on the streets trying to find out who is behind this! I'll be staying here at the hospital for now."

With murmurs of support and concern, the gathered officers began to slowly drift out of the room. When a fellow officer is hurt, it affects the entire brotherhood and when that officer is shot down in the Police Department parking garage by two men dressed as police officers that makes it even more personal. Every officer on the force from the lowest patrolman to the highest level officials would be working together to find the person responsible for the attack on Starsky. Starsky and Hutch were both well liked by most of their peers and even the ones who didn't particularly like them still respected them. Their partnership was almost legendary in the department and everybody knew how close the two men were, not just as partners but as best friends. It was unusual to see Starsky without the tall blond by his side. At times, they seemed to share almost a psychic bond that could be unnerving to be around but it was also one of the things that made their partnership so unique.

As the room cleared out, Captain Dobey turned his attention back to Hutch. Minnie was sitting on the sofa beside the big blond with one arm around his shoulder, talking to him quietly. Hutch was simply sitting there, staring at the floor, lost in his own grief. His arms were resting against his knees with his hands so tightly clenched together that his knuckles were white. Dobey could feel Hutch's pain intensely. His own heart was torn in two by the tragedy. Dobey had to maintain a certain distance from his men for professional reasons but those boundaries had been crossed more than once with the team of Starsky and Hutch. He had spent more hours than he cared to remember over the past seven years sitting in one emergency room or the other, consoling one of them when the other one was injured, waiting for news on their condition. But it had never been this bad before. Dobey had lost several good men over the years and he hated the thought of losing Starsky. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. There were phone calls that needed to be made and he didn't think that Hutch was in any condition to be making them right now.

Walking over to the sofa, he glanced down at Hutch and Minnie. In a soft voice he said, "I'm going to call Starsky's family. Can I get either one of you anything?"

"No thanks, Captain," Minnie said, shaking her head as she gently rubbed her hand over Hutch's hunched shoulders. "We'll be just fine." Hutch didn't respond and Dobey couldn't help but wonder if he had even heard him. Dobey's shoulders slumped wearily as he slowly made his way to a row of payphones down a short hallway to his right. Mentally, he braced himself for the phone call that no police captain wants to make.

By the time he finished making his calls; Rachel Starsky was on the phone making an airline reservation. Two hours later, she was boarding the flight to Chicago for the connection to LAX where Captain Dobey would be waiting to pick her up and take her to her son's side.


	3. Chapter 3

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER THREE**

Hutch straddled a chair with his arms folded across the backrest, as he stared through the observation window into Starsky's room in the Intensive Care Unit. Captain Dobey stood behind him, looking through the glass at his fallen officer. Starsky was lying on a bed, his normally olive complexion as white as the bed linens. A sheet covered his lower body, his exposed chest and stomach heavily bandaged, along with his left shoulder. A nurse and the doctor were both with him, checking his bandages and vital signs.

Two IVs dripped steadily into the back of his right hand and one into the back of his left. Wires and tubes protruded from various areas underneath the bandages. A clear plastic bag hanging on the bottom of the bedrail collected his urine.

The lower part of his face was obscured by the mouthpiece to the ventilator that forced his chest to rise and fall in the normal rhythm that he could no longer maintain. Hutch found his eyes drawn to the heart monitor standing to the right of the bed. As long as he could see those jagged green lines on the screen, he knew that Starsky was still alive.

"Mrs. Starsky should be here around ten p.m.," Dobey said quietly. "I'm picking her up at the airport. She doesn't know where his brother is to tell him."

"Did you get hold of his Aunt and Uncle?" Hutch asked, trying to focus on what Dobey was saying. He had met Starsky's mother and the rest of his family. He knew how close they all were with the exception of Starsky's brother, Nick. Nick Starsky was too busy looking out for his own interests to care much about the rest of his family.

"They're out of town until tomorrow morning," Dobey told him with a heavy sigh. "It's already on the news…"

"Is there any way to get in touch with them before they hear about it on TV?"

"I've got Minnie working on it. If there's a way, she'll find it."

Both men fell into an uneasy silence, continuing their silent vigil. It had been almost twelve hours since the shooting and they were both exhausted, physically and mentally. Hutch was holding up better than Dobey had anticipated but he could still feel the blond's guilt at not being able to prevent his partner from being shot.

Neither of them noticed Huggy Bear hurrying down the hallway towards them until the tall thin black men stepped up beside Dobey and looked through the observation glass. His shock and concern for his friend was clearly written on his face.

"Cap?" he said softly, a catch in his voice.

"Couple of guys dressed up like officers," Dobey told him gruffly. "He's lucky to be alive."

"He's gonna be okay…." Huggy said his words more of a question than a statement of fact.

"He's dying," Hutch said in a flat toneless voice without taking his eyes off his motionless partner.

"No…." Huggy gasped

"He's suffered massive damage," Hutch said softly. "The body can only withstand…." His words trailed off into silence.

"But there's a chance," Huggy insisted, refusing to accept the idea that his friend was dying. "There's always a chance."

"Of course there's a chance," Dobey said grimly. "There's always a chance."

Doctor Riley came out of Starsky's room and paused, looking at the three men with sorrow in his eyes. Hutch immediately rose to his feet, determined to be with his partner, even if it was only for a few minutes. "He's in a coma," The doctor reminded him needlessly as Hutch brushed past him and went into the room.

Captain Dobey stopped the other man as he turned towards the nurse's station. "Hey, Doc…ummm…." he paused, unable to say the words as he looked at the Doctor anxiously.

"He may live a few more hours…maybe even a couple of days….there's no way of knowing," the doctor told him, apparently convinced that the dark haired detective would die from his injuries. He continued on his way down the hallway, leaving Huggy and Dobey to stare after him in stunned silence.

Inside Starsky's room, Hutch slowly approached the bed. The nurse finished writing some notes in her chart and left the room. Hutch's eyes drifted to the monitor beside the bed that was registering Starsky's heartbeat. It was slow and irregular, the soft beeping sound filling the air.

Hutch slumped into a chair beside the bed and stared at his partner lying on the bed in front of him, feeling an overwhelming sense of helplessness and grief. His eyes took in the mass of tubes, wires, machines and IV bags that surrounded his injured friend. Hutch instinctively started to reach out to touch Starsky but then drew back his hand, suddenly afraid to disturb the wounded man.

Hutch hunched over in his seat, resting his arms on his knees. He could feel the sting of unshed tears in his eyes and the lump that seemed to be stuck in his throat. But the worst was the crushing pain in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He felt numb and detached, his mind still struggling to prepare him for a life without Starsky.

His mind drifted back to all the other times that he'd found himself in a hospital room waiting for Starsky to wake up after being injured in one way or another. They had both had many close calls but nothing like this. This time it was for real. This time, Starsky wasn't going to wake up and smile that crooked smile. This time, there was nothing Hutch could do but watch his best friend die.

He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the ventilator as it pumped air in and out of Starsky's lungs. The soft beeping of the heart monitor blended into the background. The sounds of a life still hanging precariously in the balance. Hutch could still smell the blood as it pooled on the hot pavement beneath Starsky's body. And he could hear the gunshots echoing in his head. The guilt of not being able to save Starsky from being shot was tearing him apart. It should have been him, not Starsky. Starsky had never done anything to deserve this.

Hutch lost track of how long he'd sat there before he finally shoved himself to his feet and stumbled from the room. In the hallway, Captain Dobey was sitting in a chair directly across from the observation window. Numbly, Hutch slumped down in the vacant chair beside him, staring sightlessly at the wall. He barely noticed when Dobey spoke.

"You know, there's not much I can do at headquarters that I can't do here."

"Yeah," Hutch muttered in a barely audible voice.

"I think I'm gonna stay," Dobey told him. "I mean…I think one of us ought to be here in case we lose him." The Captain stood up and stretched to work the kinks out of his back and then slumped back down into his chair with a heavy sigh. "Why don't you go wash up and get something to eat?"

"Yeah," Hutch said listlessly. He wasn't hungry but he knew he had to keep his strength up to get through the days ahead.

"Catch up with Huggy. He just went for some coffee."

Sighing wearily, Hutch pushed himself to his feet. He stopped a passing nurse and asked, "excuse me, where's the men's room?"

"At the end of the hall," she told him continuing on her way.

Turning back to the Captain, Hutch said, "Cap, you want something to eat?" Without bothering to reply, Dobey shook his head, lost in his own thoughts. Hutch turned and walked down the hallway towards the men's room.

As he started to go inside, he almost collided with a man in a white tunic coming out. Without bothering to apologize, the man brushed past Hutch and hurried down the hallway.

Hutch stepped over to one of the sinks and turned on the water, splashing some on his face as he choked back a sob. As he reached up for a paper towel, he glanced in the mirror and saw a man's legs, reflected in the glass, sprawled on the floor in one of the stalls. Turning to push open the door to the stall, he discovered a man's body slumped against the wall, blood dripping down the side of his face. The unconscious man was dressed in a white tee shirt with a stethoscope slung around his neck.

Remembering the man he had almost collided with as he entered the restroom, Hutch burst through the door into the hallway. He caught a glimpse of the fake orderly disappearing through Starsky's doorway. Running in that direction, his heart pounding with fear, Hutch reached the doorway and grabbed the other man by the shoulder, pulling him back into the hall.

With an angry oath, the man took a swing at Hutch, knocking him off balance and to the floor. The fake orderly ran down the hall towards the exit as two uniformed officers joined the chase. Captain Dobey scrambled to his feet when he saw Hutch brawling with the other man. Stepping forward, he reached down to help Hutch to his feet.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Hutch snapped in an irritated voice, shaking off Dobey's hand. "Whoever the hell he was, he wasn't any doctor. He was after Starsky! The real doctor is unconscious back in the men's room."

Satisfied that Hutch was unharmed, Dobey took command, barking orders at several other officers who had gathered around them. "I want a police guard put on Sergeant Starsky's room immediately! No one gets in there without proper identification and authorization! Nobody! Is that understood?" At the affirmative nods from his men, Dobey stomped down the hall to the nurse's station, followed closely by Hutch.

The petite blonde behind the desk looked up at the burly black man cautiously and said "May I help you, sir?" The dramatic events of the past few minutes had unnerved her and the expression on the faces of the two men suddenly confronting her wasn't helping any.

"I'm going to be using the empty room beside Detective Starsky's as a temporary command post for me and my men," Dobey told her in a voice that made it clear he wasn't going to be argued with.

"Yes, sir." the nurse said meekly. "I'll tell the charge nurse and leave a note for the other shifts."

Dobey turned on his heel and headed back towards Starsky's room. A young uniformed officer came rushing through the doors at the end of the hallway and said breathlessly, "They caught the guy dressed up like a doctor. He's under arrest. Baker and Jones are taking him down to headquarters now."

"Good. I'll call Edwards and Arnez and have them interrogate him," Dobey said in a satisfied voice.

"Wait, Cap…" Hutch told him "Have Miller and Barnes question him instead," he suggested. "They'll do a better job."

Dobey nodded his agreement and went to find a phone while Hutch slipped into Starsky's room to sit with his friend.


	4. Chapter 4

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Rachel Starsky disembarked from the plane and entered the busy terminal at LAX. She was exhausted from the cross continent flight from New York but nothing was going to keep her away from her critically injured son. The phone call from Captain Dobey had been one she had been expecting and fearing for years. David loved being a cop so much, in spite of the danger.

During the entire flight, Rachel had had flashbacks of her husband Michael's death almost twenty years ago. He had been the same age as David when he died, murdered in their driveway on his way home from work. His wounds had even been almost identical to the ones that David had suffered. But her David was still alive and she could only pray that he would be strong enough to stay that way.

As she made her way through the crowd of departing passengers, she easily spotted Harold Dobey standing near the luggage claim. She had met the burly black man on a visit to see David three years ago. Walking closer, she could see the tired lines etched around the black man's eyes, evidence of his weariness.

"Mrs. Starsky…" Dobey said graciously as he reached down for her carry-on bag. "I have a car waiting outside. How was your flight?"

"Long. How is David?"

"No change, I'm afraid. Would you like to get your bags and drop them off at David's apartment before going to the hospital?"

"No. I want to go to the hospital first. I want to be with my son."

Dobey nodded and led the way over to the baggage claim. He gathered up the two suitcases Rachel pointed out to him and led the way through the busy terminal to the exit. Outside, the night sky was clear and the temperature still lingered in the low seventies. Millions of lights glistened as the city spread out around them.

Dobey's dark blue sedan was parked at the curb a short distance from the exit. One of the privileges of being a police captain was being able to park wherever he pleased. Digging his keys out of his pocket, he opened the truck and put the bags inside. Slamming the lid shut, he opened the passenger door for Mrs. Starsky and helped her settle into the front seat.

As he slid beneath the wheel and turned on the ignition, he found himself thinking how strongly Mrs. Starsky reminded him of her son. They both had the same inner strength and determination that had seen them through the tragedies in their lives. But more then that, they shared the same quick wit and sharp mind that made Starsky such a good detective. Captain Dobey knew that physically Starsky bore an uncanny resemblance to his deceased father but he could also see a more subtle blend of Rachel Starsky's features in his face. It was mainly in the shape of his mouth and their quick easy smile.

"Is my son going to die, Captain Dobey?" Rachel asked in a quiet voice that still sounded loud in the confines of the car.  
"I hope not. He's a good man."

"But the doctors don't hold out much hope, do they?"

"No, I'm afraid they don't," Dobey admitted with a heavy sigh.

"My Davy just might surprise them all," Rachel said with a thin smile that wavered slightly. "He's just like his father…." Her voice broke as she choked back a sob. She turned to stare out her window to hide the tears that suddenly flooded her eyes.

The woman beside him was living every mother's worst nightmare. Her son was lying in a hospital and not expected to live, the victim of four bullets that had ripped his body apart. And for Rachel Starsky, it was a constant reminder of her husband's murder so long ago. The similarities between the two cases were staggering. Unfortunately, Michael Starsky's murderer had never been identified. Dobey prayed that Starsky's attempted assassins would be. An uneasy silence filled the air that lasted the rest of the way to the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, Dobey was pulling up in front of the entrance to Memorial hospital. He pulled up to the front door and got out to help Mrs. Starsky from the vehicle.

"Why don't you wait inside while I park the car?" he asked. "I won't be long."

A few minutes later, they stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor of the busy metropolitan hospital.. Several uniformed officers lingering in the hallway stopped their conversations and glanced at the petite dark haired woman stepping off the elevator with Captain Dobey.

"That's Starsky's mother," Dobey overheard one of the men whisper to another man as he led Rachel down the hallway. As a sign of respect, several officers touched the brim of their hats as she walked by.

As they approached Starsky's room, Rachel clutched Captain Dobey's arm just a little tighter to prepare herself. She paused in the doorway to the room, taking in the image of her son lying on the bed, so quiet and still. Hutch was hunched in the chair beside him, his gaze focused intently on the brunet's face. Sensing their presence in the doorway, he glanced around, rising to his feet immediately when he saw Rachel. He crossed the room to her in a few brisk steps and reached out for her hands. Ignoring his outstretched hands, Rachel wrapped her arms around the big blond and hugged him tightly.

For the first time in almost eighteen hours, Hutch gave in to his emotions. He leaned his head against the smaller woman's shoulder and let out a quiet sob. "I'm sorry….I'm so fucking sorry…." he whispered in a broken voice. "I didn't protect him….I didn't keep him safe."

"It's all right, darling. It's not your fault," Rachel said, soothing him much as she would have comforted David under similar circumstances. She gently stroked his hair and when he raised his head to look into her eyes, she reached up to brush a tear from his cheek. Captain Dobey felt a tear in his eye as he watched the touching scene unfolding in front of him.

"I'll leave you two alone," he told them quietly. "I'll be next door if you need me."

When Dobey left the room, Hutch took Rachel's arm and to lead her over to the chair sitting beside the bed. Ignoring the offered seat, she leaned down and gently kissed her son's forehead. "I'm here, baby," she whispered. "Mama's here now."

Hutch bowed his head as she quietly recited a prayer in Hebrew, all the while running her fingers through Starsky's thick dark curls. When she finished the prayer, she took the chair that had been offered earlier. Hutch remained standing at her side, one hand resting on her shoulder as they looked at the face of the man they both loved so much.

Rachel's eyes swept over her son's motionless body. She smiled faintly. She had never seen her David so quiet and still. His normally hyperactive personality wouldn't stand for it. She silently cursed his tendency to get into trouble. He seemed to attract it like a magnet. _Just like your father, _she found herself thinking. _I wish you'd stop trying to be so much like him. I can't bear to lose you too….not like this._

When the nurses came in to change the bandages and do some other routine chores, Hutch escorted Rachel from the room. "Why don't you let me drive you back to Starsky's place so you can get some rest?" Hutch suggested. "You must be exhausted after your flight."

"I want to stay here for now," Rachel said with a stubborn tilt of her chin that was an exact duplicate of a gesture her son would have made. "I need to be close to Davy."

"At least let me buy you some coffee," he told her. "They won't let either one of us back in there until they're done."

"You should get some rest too," Rachel told him, noting the exhaustion in Hutch's ice blue eyes and the weary slump of his shoulders.

"I can't leave him here alone anymore than you can," he told her with a feeble attempt at a smile. Exchanging an understanding glance, they walked towards the elevator to go down to the cafeteria for some coffee.

When they returned to the fourth floor an hour later, Hutch paused at the doorway and said, "Why don't you go and sit with him for awhile. I'll wait out here." As Rachel went into the room, Hutch slumped down in one of the chairs facing the observation window. Exhausted beyond belief, Hutch's eyes drifted shut and he fell into a restless slumber.

In the ICU room, a shiver ran through her body even though it was warm in the room. The sound of the various machines in the background blended with the other sounds drifting in from the rest of the hospital. A phone ringing at the nurse's station, the soft murmur of voices as the staff went about their routine duties, the soft ding as the elevator stopped at the fourth floor.

She began to sing softly, a familiar lullaby that she'd often sang to both of her sons when they were babies. Rachel believed that a person in a coma was still aware of their surroundings. She was determined that if her son died, he would know that he was not alone.

She found herself gently rubbing a spot on David's right shoulder where there were no bandages, wires or tubes. His skin felt cool to her touch, almost too cool. She wondered if he was cold. He hated to be cold. She thought about pulling the sheet up from his waist to his shoulders but she didn't want to disturb the bandages or the IV lines.

Abby Lynn, one of the primary nurses on the ICU unit, walked down the hall towards David Starsky's room. She smiled faintly when she saw the tall blond slumped awkwardly in a chair across from the observation window. He looked so uncomfortable but he was sleeping and she didn't want to bother him. She knew that he had been there since early morning when his partner was brought into the ER. Walking into Starsky's room, she immediately noticed the petite brunette woman sitting beside the bed. From the strong resemblance to her patient, she knew the older woman must be his mother or another close family member.

"Hello. I'm Abby, one of David's nurses," she said quietly, as she automatically began checking his vital signs and writing down the readings from the various machines in the patient's chart.

"I'm Rachel Starsky. David's mother." She watched the nurse gently tending to her injured son. "How is he?"

"About the same. There hasn't been any change."

"Could you get him a blanket? I think he might be a little cold."

"Of course." Abby walked over to the closet and opened the door, pulling an extra blanket from the top shelf. Carrying it back over to the bed, she carefully spread it over Starsky's lower body, smoothing it down gently. Rachel gave her a grateful smile.

"He hates being cold." She affectionately brushed her fingertips against his cheek. Her eyes clouded with sadness and despair. "Is he going to die?"

"That's not for us to decide. That's up to God," Abby said as she continued her work, quietly and efficiently. She looked at Rachel and smiled encouragingly. "Your son is young, strong and in good physical condition. Those are all points in his favor."

"The doctors don't think he's going to make it."

"Doctors don't know everything." Abby straightened up and looked at the woman before her more closely. "I won't try to lie to you. David is hurt very badly. His condition is critical but he is still alive and the longer he stays that way, the better chance he has of pulling through. You should really get some rest. He's gonna to need you more than he ever has before in the next few days."

"I will….soon. I just need to be with him for a little longer."

"I understand. I'll be at the nurse's station if you need anything," Abby said as she quietly left the room leaving the mother to care for her son.


	5. Chapter 5

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 5**

**A/N: Although this chapter contains scenes from the original episode, some of those scenes have been changed slightly.**

"Rachel, let me take you to Starsky's place so you can get some rest," Hutch said gently putting his hand on the woman's shoulder. She had been sitting at Starsky's side all night, watching over him and keeping him safe. She was exhausted and it showed.

"You'll call me right away if he….if he…" she said, her voice breaking. She fell silent, unable to say the words out loud. Her eyes darted back to her son's face and Hutch could see the panic etched on her gentle features.

"Of course I will," Hutch reassured her as he slipped his hand under her arm and helped her to her feet. "I promise. I won't let anything happen to him while you're gone."

Rachel nodded her head and then leaned down to tenderly kiss her son's cheek. "I'll be back soon, baby. Hutch is going to take care of you until I get back."

Rachel and Hutch quietly left the room, barely noticing the activity of the nursing staff preparing for another day. Uniformed officers lingered in the hallways discreetly observing everyone entering or leaving the ICU.

Walking out of the hospital, Rachel turned to Hutch and said with concern, "You need rest to, Ken."

"I'm fine," Hutch assured her with a smile. "I got some sleep last night while you were sitting with Starsky."

"On a chair in the hallway?" she scolded him gently. "You need to sleep in a real bed."

"I will…later. I promise," Hutch said her as he helped her into the waiting black and white cruiser that Dobey had commandeered to take her to Starsky's house. Glancing at the young rookie assigned to be her escort, he said, "Make sure that Mrs. Starsky gets into the apartment safely."

"Yes, sir," the rookie told him with a curt nod, still new enough to the force to be intimidated by an officer of Hutch's stature.

Captain Dobey and Huggy were standing in front of the observation window, gazing into Starsky's room when Hutch joined them.

"Barnes just called in from headquarters," Dobey said glancing at Hutch. "The man who tried to get into Starsky's room is refusing to talk. He won't even give them his name. They're still trying to identify him through his fingerprints."

"These guys are pros, Captain!" Hutch said. His voice was quiet and low, respectful of the other patients on the floor, but still strong with anger. "They're gonna try again! They're not gonna stop until they finish the job!"

"I know what's going on out there as well as you do!" Dobey snapped in irritation, trying to keep his own voice calm as he responded Hutch's tone.

"I don't wanna stand around here and wait for them to make another move," Hutch snapped, his patience worn thin. He was torn between his desperate need to stay with his injured partner, to be there if Starsky didn't make it, and his equally desperate need to find the men who had shot him.

"At this point in time we don't have much choice," Dobey pointed out.

"Yes, we do," Hutch argued. "We take the offensive."

"How? Who? Where?" Dobey demanded. "We don't even know who they are!"

"Then we find out!" Hutch growled. The tension headache he'd been fighting all morning had settled into a pounding throb in his temples and he felt nauseated from lack of sleep.

"How?"

"We go out and look for them."

"For what? A bullet in the head? It's not just Starsky they want! They want you too!" Dobey reminded him. "Hutch, if you go out there now, it's gonna be like shooting a duck in a barrel. Just calm down. Be calm. Wait until I can find you a new partner."

Hutch glared at his Captain, his expression hard and unforgiving. The pain he felt in his chest when he heard those words ripped his heart in two. Another partner would be a betrayal of his friendship with Starsky. "I already have a partner," he said in a cold, flat voice. "I don't need another one." With those parting words, he took a final look at Starsky lying alone in the bed and then turned, stalking down the hallway.

Dobey glanced back at Huggy and growled, "Well, don't just stand there! Go catch up with him! Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." Reaching in his pocket, he dug out his car keys and pressed them into the thin black man's palm.

Huggy hurried after the departing detective, catching up with Hutch as he waited impatiently for the elevator.

"Dobey send you after me?" Hutch growled as the tall black man stepped up beside him.

"Keys," Huggy told him, jangling the set he held in his hand. "You can't drive a car without keys." The doors to elevator slid open and the two men stepped inside.

Hutch angrily punched the button for the third level of the parking garage and then slumped back against the wall. He fought to hold back the rage that was boiling inside of him. He wanted to punch someone or something to release some of his aggression and frustration.

"Starsky's gonna die, Hug…." Hutch said in a tightly controlled voice. "Starsky's gonna die and there ain't nothing anybody can do about it." There was a long awkward pause and then he sighed, adding in a determined tone, "at least from their end there isn't. But I'm still here. I'm still alive. They haven't got me yet and until they do…..there damn well better be something I can do about it."

Huggy kept silent as Hutch vented his anger. The elevator doors slid open and Hutch stepped out. He turned back to look at Huggy who handed over the keys.

"What's it look like?" Hutch asked as he palmed the ring.

"Looks like Dobey's car," Huggy told him with a faint smile. The two men exchanged a glance for several long moments. "Take it slow, huh?"

Hutch gave Huggy a mock salute as the doors slid shut between them. He was grateful for Huggy's support. The black man had proved himself to be a true friend over the years. Straightening his shoulders, he walked across the cement floor of the parking garage. The vast open area was dimly lit with deep shadows lingering in the corners. Hutch's footsteps echoed softly as he walked across the pavement. He spotted Captain Dobey's car parked at the end of the row.

A cream colored sedan was parked behind Dobey's car, partially blocking it in. A hospital orderly in a white uniform was trying to maneuver a patient in a wheelchair into the passenger's seat of the car.

"Hey, excuse me…" Hutch said. "You're blocking my car there. Can I give you a hand?"

"Yeah, I'd really appreciate that. If you can grab his legs, I'll grab under his arms," The orderly said. "Just let me turn him around."

He turned the wheelchair so that the seated man was facing Hutch. Suddenly, the man in the chair tossed aside the blanket covering his legs and jumped to his feet. Hutch caught the glint of light as it reflected off the blade of the knife he held in his hand. Instinctively, Hutch threw up his right arm to block the blow, as the man lunged towards him with a wild swing of the knife.

Hutch gasped as a sharp pain lanced through his right forearm. He twisted away from the blow as the man lunged at him again. From the corner of his eye, he saw the orderly pull a gun from his waistband. The orderly fired, the gunshot echoing loudly in the cavernous garage. Fortunately for Hutch, he was able to use his attacker's body as a shield and the bullet meant for Hutch hit the other man in the back.

Letting the knife wielding attacker fall to the ground at his feet, Hutch drew his gun, aiming at the fake orderly before he could get off another shot. The man hesitated momentarily and then let the gun drop to the ground. He raised his hands in the air, holding them away from his body.

'TALK TO ME!" Hutch demanded, his voice shaking with rage. "TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW! I WANNA HEAR IT NOW!"

"It was a paid hit," the fake orderly said. "But I don't know who ordered it."

"WHO PAID?" Hutch yelled "GIVE ME A FUCKING NAME!"

"A girl," the other man said, eyeing Hutch's gun warily.

"What girl?" Hutch snarled.

"Brown. Jenny Brown."

"Where?"

I don't know," the man insisted with a smirk. Hutch fired a warning shot at the wall behind the man's head, the sound deafening in the confines of the garage. "Park Towers," the man snapped sharply. "But that's all I know!"

Stepping over the body lying at his feet, Hutch grabbed the orderly by his arm and pulled him over to the sedan. Carefully keeping him covered with his gun, Hutch dug his handcuffs out of his back pocket. He snapped one bracelet around the other man's wrist and then snapped the other bracelet around the door handle.

Breathing heavily, Hutch paused to catch his breath. The insistent pain in his forearm drew his attention to a deep gash that was bleeding freely. He slipped his gun back into his shoulder holster and pulled a hanky out of his back pocket. He didn't have time to wait for medical treatment; he had to find Jenny Brown. She was his only lead to the identity of the men who had tried to kill Starsky. He wrapped the hanky tightly around the wound to control the bleeding, barely noticing the pain. He took several deep breathes to slow the frantic pounding of his heart.

Stepping over to the driver's side of Dobey's car, he leaned down and reached through the open window to grab the mike to the police radio. Pressing down on the transmit button, he said, "This is Detective Hutchinson. Patch me through to Captain Dobey at Memorial hospital."

After a short pause, Dobey's voice boomed over the radio, "Where are you, Hutchinson? What the hell is going on?"

"I need a patrol car and an ambulance on the third level of the County Hospital garage," Hutch told him grimly.

"That's right here!" Dobey exclaimed in a startled voice.

"No kidding," Hutch said sarcastically. "Brown. Jenny Brown. Feed her name into the computer and let me know everything you can find out about her."

"Hutch, this is Huggy." The black man's voice came over the radio. "Did you say Jenny Brown?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Hutch snapped, not in the mood to be pleasant.

"It's gotta be her."

"Who?"

"Jenny Brown," Huggy said "She's one of the top models around. She's been on the cover of Cosmo, Vogue…..you name it."

"I just did," Hutch growled. "She's the one who paid for the hit. I'm on my way there right now to talk to her."

"Hutch, you be careful," Dobey said as his voice came back on the air. "And report back in as soon as you talk to her! That's an order!"

Without bothering to respond, Hutch pulled open the door and climbed behind the wheel. The engine roared to life as he twisted the key in the ignition and threw the car into reverse. Glancing over his shoulder, he deliberately smashed the rear end of Dobey's vehicle into the front end of the car blocking his exit.

A satisfied smile tugged at his mouth when he saw the frightened look on the fake orderly's face as the other car was shoved out of his way. Tires squealed and the smell of burning rubber filled the air as Hutch stomped down on the accelerator, heading for the exit.


	6. Chapter 6

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 6**

The room Captain Dobey had commandeered as his temporary headquarters was in chaos. Phones were ringing, uniformed officers were gathering information, and Dobey was trying to keep some kind of order. An anonymous caller had contacted headquarters with the tip that a local tabloid had offered $10,000 for a picture of Starsky in his hospital room. To avoid every crazy with a camera from trying to get to the wounded man, Dobey had posted officers on each floor of the hospital to watch for possible intruders. Needless to say, the hospital administration wasn't happy with that arrangement but Dobey didn't care. He was going to do whatever it took to protect Starsky.

The background noise from the hospital was largely ignored until a page came over the intercom, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "Code blue. Station one. Code blue. Station one….."

The same message was repeated again, and Captain Dobey noticed a medical team running down the hallway. Dobey, Huggy, and several uniformed officers hurried to the doorway in time to see the nurses and the rest of the medical team disappearing into Starsky's room. Dobey's heart started pounding frantically and his stomach tightened with fear. He was certain that his worst nightmare was coming true. Starsky was dying and Hutch wasn't here.

Dobey and Huggy rushed to the observation window that overlooked Starsky's room. The scene unfolding in front of them was one of frantic activity. The heart monitor beside Starsky's displayed an irregular green line indicating a slow, erratic heartbeat. An older nurse with gray hair was busy doing chest compressions with a steady rhythm as the rest of the medical staff converged on the room. Starsky's face had taken on the slack, unresponsive appearance of a corpse.

It was difficult to see everything that was happening when there were so many technicians and nurses crowded around the bed obeying Doctor Riley's orders. Snatches of conversation drifted out into the hallway. Words like "Cardiac arrest.", "Defibrillator.", "Epinephrine." and "No vital signs."

Dobey watched as one nurse slid a flat board underneath Starsky's shoulders and back, while another nurse cut through the bandages covering his left side to expose his skin. Dobey watched the scene unfolding in front of him with an overwhelming sense of inadequacy and helplessness.

Starsky's body arched violently when the doctor pressed one paddle of the defibrillator against his left side just under his ribcage and the second paddle against the middle of this chest. The doctor stepped back and everyone's eyes shifted to the heart monitor. A flat line. No response. A nurse continued chest compressions while the doctor recharged the machine, increasing the voltage.

Starsky's body arched violently again but there was still no response. Dobey's attention was so focused on the activity in the room, he didn't notice the nurse that had stepped up beside him until she gently touched his shoulder and said quietly,

"Captain Dobey, Sergeant Hutchinson is on the phone. Line two."

Forcing himself to turn away from the observation window, Dobey hurried next door and grabbed one of the phones.

"How's he doing, Cap?" Hutch said over the line.

"I think you better get down here right away, Hutch," Dobey said in a tightly controlled voice. He heard a loud thump as if Hutch had dropped the phone and then silence. "Hutch? Hutch?" Realizing that the line was dead, Dobey hung up and hurried back to the observation window.

_Please, dear God….don't take him now….not yet….not like this. _Dobey prayed silently as he watched for any sign of life from the gravely wounded detective. Dobey watched anxiously as the medical staff continued to try and save Starsky's life. He held his breath as the doctor shocked Starsky's heart one more time.

Two things happened simultaneously. The line on the heart monitor jumped as Starsky's heart began to beat on its own, settling into a steady rhythm just as the doors at the end of the hallway burst open and Hutch came racing down the corridor.

The tall blond collided with a cart filled with dinner trays, shoving it aside. Mindless of the havoc he was creating, he rushed on towards Dobey and the others standing just outside Starsky's door. The terrified expression on his face was plain for everyone to see.

Hutch skidded to a halt outside the doorway as Doctor Riley came out of the room. The doctor had a relieved smile on his face as he looked at the anxious faces of the police officers gathered around him.

"He's alive. Still not out of it, but I'll be damned if he isn't alive." There was a sound of awe and disbelief in the doctor's voice.

Leaving the doctor to talk to Dobey and Huggy, Hutch brushed past Doctor Riley, oblivious to everyone in his need to see Starsky. A nurse was still in the room, checking the injured man's vital signs and cleaning up the mess left behind by the code blue team.

Hutch stood beside Starsky's side, not touching him, just looking down at his face, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest with the soft beeping of the heart monitor in the background. The sheer terror he had felt on his reckless drive to the hospital slowly began to dissipate. Hutch's knees felt weak and he felt sick to his stomach as the surge of adrenaline that had flooded his system began to ebb.

He stood there for several long minutes just soaking in the beloved face of his partner. Finally, he turned and left the room. He didn't know how he found the small chapel at the end of the hall, but suddenly he was there. He fell to his knees at the altar and began to pour his heart out to a God he was no longer sure he believed in.

"Please, dear God….spare him. Don't let him die….not like this. I need him so much…I'm not ready to let him go." Hutch swallowed to dislodge the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. "I can't go on without him….please….just let him live. Take me instead."

Tears began to fall down his cheeks unnoticed as his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. After several minutes, a sense of peace slowly settled over him. Reaching out with his mind, for the first time since the shooting, Hutch believed he could feel that connection to Starsky again. It was faint and fragile, but it was there. It was as if their souls had linked and it was Hutch's love was anchoring Starsky's soul to this world.

Shoving himself to his feet, he slowly made his way back to the command center.

Captain Dobey glanced up as Hutch came into the room. "How is he?"

"He's holding his own," Hutch said. Huggy was sitting on the edge of Dobey's desk, rummaging through a paper bag. Curiously, Hutch peered into the bag.

"Just a light snack," Huggy told him, indicating the wrapped sandwiches in the bag. "You want something?"

Hutch shook his head, turning his attention back to his Captain when Dobey said gruffly, "The mechanic who tried to waste in the hospital garage…"

"Yeah, did you get an ID?"

"Nope. They got to him in his cell at the county. Knifed him."

Hutch grabbed the phone on nearby desk and quickly punched in a number. When the phone was answered on the other end of the line, he said grimly "Crane…Hutchinson. Listen…Jenny Brown…we booked her last night…I want her transferred to maximum security." He listened for a moment, then glared around the room feeling a sudden surge of rage. "What?" he exclaimed "Who sprung her?" With a disgusted snort, he slammed down the receiver and growled "Jenny Brown's been bonded out by some big shot lawyer named Jonathan Wells." He sprang to his feet and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Dobey demanded

"To find out what the hell is going on!" Hutch growled as he headed on out the door.

"Well, don't just stand there," Dobey ordered Huggy gruffly. "Get out there with him!" As the thin black man hurried after Hutch, Dobey called after him "And try to keep him on a leash!"

Dobey sighed wearily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. There was a dull throb in his head centered behind his eyes, brought on by a lack of sleep and the stress of the past twenty-four hours. He knew that the blond half of his favorite duo was on the edge and ready to explode. Whenever he got like this, Starsky was the only one who could keep him under control but Starsky wasn't much use to his partner right now. Dobey could only hope that Huggy Bear would be able to keep Hutch out of trouble.


	7. Chapter 7

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 7**

Hutch stormed out of the private office of Jonathan Wells. Talking to the lawyer who had paid the bond for Jenny Brown hadn't been very successful. The attorney had smugly claimed lawyer/client confidentiality and brushed Hutch off as a minor inconvenience. Even Hutch's display of hostility at the lawyer's refusal to cooperate hadn't swayed his cold demeanor. He was surprised to find Huggy Bear lounging in the reception area, leaning casually against the wall.

"What are you doing here?" Hutch asked gruffly as Huggy fell in step beside him. He punched the button for the elevator, still angry from his encounter with Jonathan Wells.

"Trying to catch up with you," Huggy told him. The doors to elevator slid open and they stepped inside. Lowering his voice almost to a whisper, the thin black man said, "Hutch, my man, you're in luck. Huggy is about to make a very special delivery."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Receptionist's call sheet." Huggy nonchalantly slipped Hutch a sheet of folded paper. "A list of all the outgoing calls made by the honorable Jonathan Wells."

Hutch took the paper and discreetly slipped it into his jacket. The two men fell silent until after they had exited the high-rise building. As they walked towards the adjoining parking lot, Hutch said "Man, every time I get a door open, it gets slammed right back in my face. I tell you, Huggy, whoever is behind this has all the power…all the damn control. Right?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Huggy said with a modest shrug. "You gotta keep pushing. Maybe whoever it is will make a mistake."

Hutch paused and took the sheet of paper out of his jacket. He looked at it, skimming rapidly through the list of names and phone numbers. "Bates? Bates?" he muttered to himself. "San Francisco area code. Six. Seven. Eight calls." He frowned thoughtfully. "Who is this guy Bates?"

"There's a phone." Huggy nodded towards a pay phone on the corner. He took the sheet of paper from Hutch and scanned through it.

"Give me some change, will ya?" Hutch said walking over to the phone. "I'm all out." Huggy dug into his pants pocket and handed Hutch a handful of change. Hutch picked up the receiver, cradling it against his shoulder. "What's the number?"

"Uh…555…" Huggy said, waiting for Hutch to dial the area code first..

"555," Hutch repeated, punching in the numbers.

"6278."

Hutch dialed the rest of the phone number and then deposited the correct amount of change for the call. He listened impatiently to the ringing at the other end of the line.

"Gunther Industries," a stilted feminine voice said in his ear. "Mr. Gunther's office. May I help you?"

Hutch felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. He took a deep shuddering breath, his hand trembling slightly as he hung up the receiver without saying a word.

"What?" Huggy demanded in a concerned voice, alarmed at the stricken look on Hutch's face. "Who answered? Who's Bates?"

"I..uh…don't know." Hutch said slowly. His mind was still reeling as he struggled to process this new information. "At least now I know who this phone number belongs to."

"Who?"

"The man turned down a chance at the presidency because it was a step down in power." He looked at Huggy, his mind racing with the implication of what he'd just learned. "Hug, this number….it's Gunther Industries. It's the private line to James Gunther."

"Gunther?" Huggy repeated in a startled voice. "You think Gunther has something to do with what happened to Starsky?"

"I don't know but I'm sure as hell gonna find out," Hutch said with cold, determination. "Gunther's been under suspicion for years for being the money man behind some pretty high class operations….but nobody has been able to pin anything on him. If I can connect him to the contract on Starsky and me, he's gonna go away for the rest of his life."

"How you gonna do that?" Huggy asked. "Gunther has the money and the connections to cover his ass from anything you try to pin on him."

"Somewhere…there's something to tie Gunther Industries into all this and I'm gonna find it if it's the last thing I do," Hutch said, frustrated at his inability to find the link he needed. Still, his instincts told him that he was on the right track.

"And just where do you plan to start?"

"Minnie Kaplan. She's the department's computer whiz. She can dig up a paper trail on Gunther. That's as good a place to start as any. If I can show a connection between Gunther Industries and any of the high profile cases Starsky and I have been involved in the past couple of years, it might tie him into what happened."

Hutch turned and hurried towards his car with Huggy trailing closely behind. Huggy opted to leave his car in the parking lot and ride to police headquarters with Hutch. When they arrived at Metro, Hutch parked his battered LTD right in front of the main entrance. Using the same spot that Starsky favored whenever he parked on the street gave Hutch a sense of comfort and normalcy. He didn't know if he would ever feel comfortable parking in the parking lot again.

With Huggy by his side, Hutch entered the building. A uniformed officer named Wilcox was just leaving when they went in.

"Hey, Hutch," Wilcox said, pausing. "How's Starsky doing?"

"Holding his own," Hutch told him.

"I'm praying for him. Everybody is. Hell of a thing to happen, and right here of all places."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll make sure Starsky knows you asked about him."

"If either one of you needs anything…anything at all…you just let me know. We all wanna nail the bastard that did this."

Hutch thanked him and continued on his way. Several other officers stopped him on his way through the building, offering their own gestures of concern for Starsky. Even officers who didn't particularly care for Starsky still showed a kinship for their fallen comrade.

Hutch found Minnie Kaplan sitting at her desk in the communications center. She glanced up when he stepped into the room, instantly bouncing to her feet and coming to his side.

"How's Starsky?" she asked with concern. She genuinely liked the dynamic duo as they were known around headquarters. She had been one of the first officers on the scene when the word had spread through the building about the shooting.

"Holding his own," Hutch using the same answer he had been giving everyone who asked. "Look, Minnie, I need a favor….it might have something to do with what happened."

"Anything, Hutch. You know that."

"I need you to find out everything you can about James Gunther and Gunther Industries. Associates, business holdings, anything at all…."

"Consider it done," Minnie told him. She reached out and gently caressed Hutch's arm. "How are you holding up, darlin'?"

"I'll be okay," Hutch said. He looked into Minnie's dark brown eyes and saw genuine empathy reflected there. She was more than just a professional colleague, she was a friend. "One way or the other, I'm going to find out who did this…and they're going to pay for it."

"I know you will," Minnie said confidently. "Everybody here is pulling for Starsky. He's tough…he'll make it, you'll see." She glanced at Huggy who had been standing at Hutch's side, silently listening to their conversation. "You take good care of him, Huggy. A Hutch without a Starsky just doesn't look right."

"I hear you," Huggy said with a faint smile. "And I'm gonna be Blondie's shadow for now."

"Thanks, Minnie," Hutch said, grateful for her sincere words of encouragement. "Put a rush on that information for me, okay?"

"You got it. Priority one."

"I have to get back to the hospital. I can't leave him alone too long." Hutch felt a sudden tightness in his throat as he remembered the cardiac arrest earlier that morning. He'd almost lost Starsky and hadn't been there with him as he should have been. He couldn't let that happen again.

Hutch had one more thing to do before he returned to the hospital. Huggy followed him as Hutch left the building by the back stairs, stepping out into the rear parking lot. He stood there for a moment, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat, as he visualized the shooting in vivid detail. Glancing towards the far end of the lot, he could see the red stains that had soaked into the pavement where Starsky had been gunned down. He shivered as he heard the sound of gunfire echoing his mind, along with the sound of shattering glass.

"Hey, man….it's gonna be okay," Huggy said comfortingly, as he gently laid his hand on Hutch's shoulder to distract him.

Shaking off his morbid thoughts, Hutch turned towards the fenced off section of the impound lot. At the far end of the enclosure, a flash of red caught Hutch's eye, gleaming under the glare of the mid-day sun. With determined steps, he walked in that direction with Huggy by his side.

Partially hidden by a battered van, the Torino sat alongside the fence that surrounded the impounded lot. Hutch felt the nausea churning in his gut as he inspected the damage inflicted on Starsky's pride and joy. The rear windshield and both windows on the driver's side of the car were shattered, along with the driver's side mirror. Hutch counted nine bullet holes in the body of the car, ugly wounds that had ripped through the candy apple red finish. Streaks of dried blood were smeared across the driver's side door and the rear wheel well. The Torino had been just as seriously wounded as its owner.

"Oh, man…" Huggy said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "It's a good thing Curly can't see his baby torn up like this."

"He's not going to ever see it like this," Hutch vowed fiercely. "I don't care how much it costs….he's not going to see his car looking like this. I'm gonna make sure of that."

"Hey, Hutch…let me help pay to fix it," Huggy said. "It's the least I can do for Starsky. I know how he feels about that car."

"It's the first really expensive thing he ever owned," Hutch said softly. "I think he spends more money on that damn car then he does on food." A thin smile tugged at his lips. "I know I razed him about it all the time…but the truth is I like the damn thing almost as much as he does." Hutch's voice cracked with emotion and he had to blink back the tears that sprang to his eyes. "Let's get back to the hospital. I need to stay close in case something happens again."

"I hear ya, man," Huggy said "Why don't you let me drive?"

Hutch nodded absently and dug the keys out of his jeans, handing the ring to Huggy. Almost against his will, his gaze drifted back to the other end of the lot. Huggy took his arm and steered him back towards the building.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing at the window in front of Starsky's room. Rachel was sitting beside the bed watching over her son. She noticed Hutch and Huggy through the glass and gracefully rose to her feet, joining them in the hallway.

"How is he?" Hutch asked trying to keep the anxiety and fear from showing in his voice.

"He's still in a coma," Rachel told him. "Doctor Riley checked him out a few minutes ago. He said his vital signs are stabilizing and he's trying to breathe on his own."

"That's good." Hutch said, feeling a surge of relief at the latest news on Starsky's condition.

"But the doctor still says not to get our hopes up. He's not out of danger yet." She looked at Hutch fondly. "Why don't you go in and sit with him for a while?" She directed a smile at Huggy." Mr. Brown here can buy me a cup of coffee."

"It'd be my pleasure, lovely lady," Huggy said with a grin, offering Rachel his arm courteously. As they strolled down the hallway towards the elevators, Hutch slipped into Starsky's room.

Settling into the chair beside his partner, Hutch looked at Starsky's immobile body. The only movement was the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It felt so strange to see the normally hyperactive Starsky lying there so quiet and still.

His olive complexion was still much too pale, his mouth distorted by the tube that ran down his throat to help him breathe. Most of his lower torso was covered with heavy bandages, as well as his left shoulder and upper arm. A faint smile tugged at Hutch's lips when he noticed that they had shaved Starsky's chest. He wouldn't be too happy about that when he woke up. He tried not to think about what his friend's body looked like underneath those bandages.

Hutch was afraid to touch him. He didn't want to cause him any pain even if Starsky was unconscious. The IV's in the back of each hand prevented Hutch from being able to touch him there, to hold his hand the way he normally would have. He reached out and stroked through the dark curls, his hand pausing as one ringlet wrapped around his finger.

Hutch blinked back his tears and said, "Hang in there, Starsk. Just hang in there….don't you dare die on me. If you do, I'll follow you and drag you back if I have to." His voice trailed off as he choked back a sob. "I need you, buddy…I'm not ready to let you go. If you go, you'd better take me with you…because if you don't…I'll find a way to come with you." Tears slipped down his cheeks. "I can't make it without you, Starsky. I love you, pal."

Hutch bowed his head and closed his eyes. _God, please let him stay here with me. He's a good man. He doesn't deserve this. I swear I'll take care of him for the rest of my life if that's what it takes. Just don't take him away from me..…from everybody that loves him and needs him so much. Please don't let him die._

He jerked, startled when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he turned and looked into the eyes of Starsky's primary nurse, Abby Lynn. "I'm sorry, Ken. I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's okay," Hutch said quickly regaining his composure.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave for a little bit. I have to change his bandages and do his wound care." She gestured at the packages of gauze and bottle of alcohol sitting on the over-bed table.

"How's he doing? Really?" Hutch asked, turning his attention back to his partner's unresponsive face as he reached out and absently twisted an unruly curl around his finger again.

"He's still alive and his vital signs are stable. That's the important thing." Abby squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "I'm not trying to be evasive…we just don't know yet. But each hour that he's alive is a point in his favor."

"He's one of the toughest, most stubborn men I know," Hutch told her softly. "He doesn't know when to back down."

"Good. He's going to need that strength to pull through this," Abby said "Just like he's going to need your strength and the strength of everyone else that cares about him."

"Do you think he can hear me?"

"I'm sure he does. I've seen patients come out of comas and remember things that people have said around them. And I believe they know when they're surrounded by the people they love and sometimes it's that love that makes them fight to come back." She patted Hutch's arm encouragingly. "Go get some coffee and something to eat. You both need some rest."


	8. Chapter 8

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 8**

Hutch sat in a chair beside Starsky's bed with his face buried in his hands. It had been six days since the shooting and Starsky still lingered in a coma, unresponsive to his surroundings. But he was still alive. The doctors couldn't explain it. They hadn't expected Starsky to survive the first twenty-four hours. Hutch didn't care what the doctors thought. All he cared about was the fact that Starsky was still with him.

Hutch glanced across the room at Abby who was sitting in a second chair placed discreetly in the corner, her attention divided between the book in her lap and the equipment monitoring Starsky's vital signs. Every fifteen minutes, she took readings from the various machines and wrote the information down in Starsky's chart. She also checked the level in the IV bags and examined the drainage from the chest tube. She had already emptied the catheter and changed the colostomy bag, carefully noting the contents.

Over the past few days, Starsky had been weaned from the ventilator and was breathing with only the extra oxygen provided by a nasal cannula. A nasal gastric tube ran through his nostril and down to his stomach. Abby had explained that it had been inserted to evacuate air from his stomach and to feed him.

Hutch sighed softly glancing at Starsky's face and praying for some sign of awareness even though there was none. Starsky's face was gaunt and thin. Unable to eat on his own, he was losing weight at an alarming rate. And although he was being repositioned every two hours, Hutch had seen the red marks on his tailbone, buttocks and hips, early signs of pressure sores from being bedridden and unable to move on his own.

He bowed his head and stared at the floor. "I don't know what to do, Starsk…" he muttered to himself. "I'm pushing the odds and turning over every stone…but I don't know what to do. I know Gunther is connected to all this somehow… just can't prove it."

Hutch looked back at Starsky's face and felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart began to pound in excitement. Starsky's eyelids were open, just a mere slit at the bottom, but they were open.

"Starsk?" Hutch whispered hopefully, leaning in close, afraid he was imagining things. "Starsky?" He held his breath as a muscle in Starsky's cheek twitched and his eyelids opened half-way. His pupils were unfocused and disoriented, staring at the ceiling. Hutch jumped up and moved to his side, positioning himself so he was directly in Starsky's line of sight. "He's awake!" he cried out happily, raising his voice to get Abby's attention. "He's awake!"

Abby jumped to her feet and hurried towards the bed only to be grabbed around the waist by Hutch. He swung her into a wild dance, repeating "He's awake,", over and over again as if he were trying to convince himself of the truth. "He's awake! He's awake!" Hutch laughed joyfully, close to tears at the same time.

Starsky struggled to keep his eyes open. He wasn't sure what had happened. Everything was foggy and his brain didn't seem to want to work. Pain, terrible pain ripped through his body. _Oh, God! It hurts! It hurts! Hutch? Where's Hutch? _He sensed Hutch's presence close by and relaxed just a little, comforted. _Hutch is here…I'm safe…_The darkness surrounded him once again, dragging him back into its soothing embrace. He went willingly and without question.

When Hutch sat Abby back on her feet, he was disappointed when he realized that Starsky's eyes were closed. Abby touched his arm soothingly and said, "It's all right, Ken. He's still heavily medicated. He was awake. I saw it."

"That's good, isn't it?" Hutch asked plaintively, his eyes pleading for reassurance.

"Of course it is." Abby smiled gently. "I'm going to page the doctor and tell him the news. He'll want to examine David. Why don't you go and get something to eat? I should have some news on his condition when you get back."

"I need to call Rachel," Hutch said enthusiastically. "She'll want to be here when he wakes up again."

Abby couldn't help but chuckle. She was pleased to see Hutch so animated. She didn't have the heart to tell him that even though Starsky had come out of the coma, he wasn't out of the woods yet. She pressed the call button to summon the doctor.

Captain Dobey was on the phone when Hutch burst into his temporary office. "He opened his eyes. Starsky opened his eyes," Hutch declared, too excited to keep the news to himself. Dobey immediately hung up the phone and a huge smile crossed his face.

"What does the doctor have to say?" Jim Babcock, a detective under Dobey's command, asked.

"Abby was paging him with the news," Hutch replied, rummaging through the remains of some food that Huggy had brought to the hospital earlier. "He only opened his eyes for a few seconds and then he closed them again but Abby saw it too."

"I told ya that Curly was going to fool all them big shot doctors," Huggy said in a relieved voice. "He's gonna pull through this. You just wait and see."

"I need to call Rachel," Hutch remembered. "She'll want to get back here right away."

"Why don't I swing by Starsky's place and pick her up?" Huggy suggested. "I have to run by The Pits anyway and make sure Diane has everything under control."

"Thanks, Hug. I'll call Rachel and let her know you're on your way," Hutch said as he reached for a phone.

Dialing the familiar number, he listened as the phone rang. Rachel picked it up almost immediately.

"Hello?" she said, a trace of apprehension creeping into her voice.

"Rachel, it's Ken. Huggy is on his way over there to bring you to the hospital. Starsky opened his eyes a little bit ago."

"Oh, Ken! That's wonderful!" Rachel exclaimed, her voice flooding with joy and relief.

"He closed them again almost right away but Abby said that's because he's still pretty heavily medicated."

"I'll be ready when Mr. Brown gets here. I just want to see David."

"He should be there shortly. He has to stop by The Pits first. Hopefully by the time you get here, Doctor Riley will have some news for us."

Hanging up from his conversation with Rachel, Hutch found a sandwich marked tuna salad in one of the bags and unwrapped it. Dividing his time between sitting with Starsky and following up leads on the case, Hutch was exhausted. Although he knew that Starsky was in good hands when he wasn't at his side, Hutch was terrified of not being there in case he took another turn for the worst.

But Hutch was just as determined to bring James Gunther down and prove that he was the one who had ordered the hit on Starsky. He had been methodically unraveling the tangled web of bogus holding companies and falsified records that concealed Gunther's illegal operations. It was stressful and tedious work that was taking more time than he would have preferred. Although Minnie and several other officers were helping out, Hutch was doing most of the legwork himself.

By the time Huggy and Rachel returned to the hospital a little over an hour later, Hutch and Captain Dobey were still waiting for a chance to talk to the doctor. They were talking quietly among themselves when Doctor Riley appeared in the doorway and motioned for them to join him in the hallway.

"Let's talk in my office," he suggested leading the way to a secluded office at the end of the corridor. Dobey and Rachel took seats on a comfortable sofa facing the desk while Hutch remained standing. Doctor Riley perched on the edge of his desk and looked at the three worried faces in front of him.

"It does appear that David has come out of the coma. He is responding to painful stimuli and he tried to open his eyes when I spoke to him." Doctor Riley nodded with quiet confidence. "He is still heavily medicated and we'll be keeping him that way for a while. It's imperative that he remain as quiet and still as possible to give his body time to start healing and to get stronger." Doctor Riley paused to allow his words to sink in. When nobody seemed to have any questions, he continued, "That's good news. However, I want to make it perfectly clear to all of you that he's still not out of danger. Unforeseen complications, infections, any number of things could prove fatal to him right now. His immune system is practically shot to hell and his body is very weak. Any additional trauma will cause a setback in his recovery."

"Will he be able to talk to us when he wakes up?" Rachel asked

"When he does wake up, he'll probably be confused and disoriented, both from the length of time he was in a coma and from the medication. He may or may not recognize you. And more than likely, he'll be too weak to talk." The doctor chose his words with care. "The last thing we want is for him to panic or try to move around. He needs to be kept calm at all costs. Under the circumstances, I've left orders that either Detective Hutchinson or Mrs. Starsky can sit with him at all times, unless the nurses ask you to leave. Otherwise, I will have to restrict you to regular visiting hours."

"Will he remember what happened to him?" Captain Dobey inquired, injecting a question of his own.

"Probably not. It's called selective amnesia. The mind tends to shield a person from remembering severe traumatic events. He may not have any memory for several hours prior to the shooting."

"Should we tell him what happened?" Rachel asked with concern.

"The best thing for you to do is to let him ask questions about what happened when he's ready to. Then tell him whatever you feel he's capable of handling. Don't try to force him to remember anything."

"Can we see him now?" Hutch asked

"I'd prefer to let him rest for a couple of hours first and I suggest that you all do the same."


	9. Chapter 9

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 9**

Hutch and Rachel stood at Starsky's bedside, their attention focused on Starsky's face. A muscle twitched in his cheek, followed by a twitch of his nose. His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. The indigo eyes blinked, a little dazed, but Hutch saw the recognition in them when the curly haired man turned his attention towards his mother and best friend.

"Starsk?" Hutch said quietly. He slipped his hand beneath Starsky's right hand, taking care not to disturb any of the tubes or wires that were still attached to his body.

Starsky's gaze swept around the room, clearly not knowing where he was. He tried to speak but he was too weak. His lips moved silently, forming Hutch's name. His fingers weakly curled, trying to close around Hutch's hand as if it were a lifeline. Starsky attempted a smile but that didn't quite make it to his eyes. He tried squeezing Hutch's hand too but didn't have the strength. Hutch's spirits where boosted just by the effort.

"Davy, it's Mama," Rachel said, smiling at her son through her tears. She laid her hand against his cheek, rewarded when he tried to lean his head into her touch. "You're going to be okay, son. Hutch and I are here and one of us is going to stay with you all the time until you get stronger."

Starsky's eyes drifted shut as he slipped back into a drugged sleep but just seeing his eyes open had renewed Hutch and Rachel's hope that he would define the odds and survive.

Once he was certain that Starsky was sleeping soundly, Hutch turned to Rachel and said, "I have to go check out some leads on the shooters. Have Captain Dobey call me if you need me."

"David will be fine. You go do what you need to do," Rachel told him. "I'll watch over him."

Hutch nodded as he shoved himself to his feet. He gave Rachel a tender kiss on the cheek before leaving the room. He was elated that Starsky had finally opened his eyes but he was still scared at how close his friend had come to dying.

Leaving the hospital, he drove to police headquarters and went inside. As he headed for the stairwell that led to the upper levels of the building, Minnie spotted him and came running down the hall.

"Hutch!" she said breathlessly. "They just found the stolen cruiser that was used in the shooting up in Benedict Canyon. It just came in over the radio. There were two bodies inside. Male. Both dead. Shot in the head at close range."

"Damn!" Hutch said. "Tell 'em I'm on my way. I should be there in about fifteen minutes. Tell them not to move the bodies until I get there!"

"Will do," Minnie called after him as he turned and rushed back out of the building.

Hutch climbed back into his car and raced down the street, heading for Benedict Canyon. He used his bubble light and siren, weaving in and out of mid-day traffic and running through the red lights. He took the winding, twisting road that led into the Canyon at a dangerously high speed that could send him over the side of the narrow roadway if he wasn't careful.

As he approached a fairly remote part of the Canyon, Hutch saw the cluster of official vehicles. Parking behind the Coroner's Van, he climbed out of his car and walked to the edge of the road. The cruiser was sitting halfway down a steep embankment. Watching his step carefully, Hutch made his way down the steep, rocky hillside.

Two bodies had already been put in body bags and placed on portable stretchers to be transported to the morgue. Larry Wilcox, a uniformed patrolman from Metro, glanced up as Hutch arrived on the scene. Without waiting for Hutch to ask, he checked his notebook and began giving Hutch a report.

"Two teenage hikers stumbled across the scene by accident and called the police when they discovered the two bodies inside the vehicle. The black and white was reported stolen from the Rampart Division the day before Sergeant Starsky was shot."

"What about the preps?"

"Two white males, both dressed as uniformed officers. Late thirties to early forties. No identification," Wilcox replied, consulting his notes for accuracy. "Both reported dead at the scene by the coroner. Each victim was shot once at point blank range in the back of the head. The coroner estimates that they were probably killed at least a week ago. Looks like somebody wasn't happy with the job they did."

"Did you find any weapons in the car?" Hutch asked grimly.

"An automatic sub-machine gun was found lying on the front floorboard. Forensics is checking it see if it's the weapon that was used to shoot Starsky."

Before Hutch could continue his questions, a young uniformed officer called to him, "Sergeant Hutchison, they're calling for you on the radio. Dispatch says it's urgent."

"Fuck!" Hutch said as he hurried over to the closest official vehicle and reached in to grab the mike from underneath the dash. "This is Hutchinson. What's wrong?"

"They want you back at Memorial Hospital as soon as possible." The dispatcher's voice came over the radio.

That was all Hutch needed to hear. Glancing at Wilcox, he barked, "I want a copy of your report on my desk as soon as possible, along with the statements from the witnesses." Without waiting for a reply, he scrambled back up the embankment to his car.

Throwing himself into the front seat, he twisted the key in the ignition and pulled away, the rear end of the car fishtailing in the loose dirt and gravel at the edge of the road.

His heart was pounding frantically as he struggled to keep from being overwhelmed by panic. His racing thoughts kept playing the code blue over and over in his head as he raced back to the hospital. He tried to keep his fear under control hoping he arrived in time to say goodbye if Starsky had taken a turn for the worst.

As soon as he pushed through the doors that led to the ICU, Hutch saw Captain Dobey, Rachel and Huggy Bear sitting in the waiting area. They all looked worried and afraid. It was obvious that Rachel had been crying and Dobey was consoling her. Fearing the worst, Hutch said in a choked voice,

"What happened?"

"They had to take Curly back into surgery," Huggy told him quietly. "That's all we know right now."

"Oh, God..." Hutch moaned, slumping into a chair on the opposite side of Rachel. He buried his face in his hands as a wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm him. For the second time, Starsky had faced a major crisis alone without Hutch being there like he should have been. He felt a comforting hand fall on his shoulder but didn't bother raising his head to see who it was.

It was another long wait. Hutch alternated between pacing the floor and forcing down cups of coffee from the vending machine. His stomach was knotted with fear and he had a tension headache from worrying. Once again, Starsky's friends and family huddled together waiting for news that none of them was sure they really wanted to hear.

It was late afternoon before Hutch finally saw Dr. Riley walking down the hallway towards them. He was still dressed in surgical garb, the front of his tunic stained with blood. Hutch tried to read the expression on his face, looking for some clue as to the outcome of the surgery. But the Doctor's face was unreadable.

"Doc? How is he?" Hutch asked, hurrying to meet the doctor and searching for answers before the other man had time to speak. "Is he still alive? What happened?"

Captain Dobey, Rachel and Huggy Bear had shoved themselves to their feet when they saw the doctor approaching and had joined Hutch, waiting impatiently for the doctor's verdict.

Doctor Riley held up one hand wearily to stop the barrage of questions. Looking from one anxious, worried face to another, he said, "He's still alive."

"What happened?" Hutch demanded, speaking for the group.

"Several things. He started bleeding internally. That's why we had to take him back into surgery. It took us awhile to get the bleeding under control and find out what was causing it."

"But you fixed it. Right?" Rachel asked

"Yes. We did stop the bleeding but David is also spiking a high fever. One of the surgical wounds is infected. That's not unusual considering the extent of the original damage. We've started him on antibiotics and we're monitoring his condition carefully to make sure he doesn't develop sepsis."

"What's that?" Hutch asked. He had heard the term before but couldn't remember exactly what it meant.

"Basically, it's an infection in his blood stream that can make him very ill and in David's case it could easily prove fatal. He also has some of the early symptoms of pneumonia which is not good with his compromised lung."

"Can I see him?" Rachel requested, her eyes brimming with tears.

"He's gonna be in the recovery room for awhile. I think it'd be better if you all went home and got some rest. You all look like you could use a good night's sleep."

As the doctor turned and walked away to tend to his other patients, Rachel gave in to the stress of the past few hours and burst into tears. Hutch put his arms around her and pulled her into a comforting embrace, while Huggy and Captain Dobey looked helpless and frustrated.

"I…uh….guess I'll head down to The Pits," Huggy said "I need to make a run to the bank before the place gets busy." With a final glance at Hutch and Mrs. Starsky, he shuffled down the hall to the elevators.

"I guess I'd better head home too, " Dobey said gruffly. "Rosie has a soccer game this afternoon and Cal has football practice."

Hutch nodded briefly to acknowledge that he had heard them. He didn't trust his voice to speak. He could barely swallow past the lump that was wedged in his throat. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. His stomach burned with indigestion and his head was starting to ache.

Rachel had gotten her tears under control and pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "Ken can drive me back to David's and I'll fix us something to eat," she said. "But then I'm coming back here. I just need to go to the ladies room first."

When he was sure that Rachel was far enough down the hall that she couldn't hear him, Hutch looked at his Captain and said, "They found the two men who shot Starsky up in Benedict Canyon. Both had been killed with a single gunshot wound to the back of the head…execution style. It looks like they've been dead about a week."

"Sounds like somebody wasn't very happy with the quality of their work," Dobey said grimly.

"We need to put Jenny Brown in protective custody before she ends up as the next victim." Hutch pointed out.

"I'll take care of it. You take care of Mrs. Starsky," the burly black man said as he walked away to tend to business.

When Rachel returned from the restroom, Hutch looked at her and said, "Are you ready to go?"

"I suppose," she sighed. "I just hate leaving David here by himself…even if it is only for a few hours."

"I know. So do I, but he'd want you take care of yourself."

"How does roast beef and mashed potatoes sound?"

"That sounds great," Hutch said as he politely smiled and slipped his arm around her waist to escort her home. He didn't want Rachel to know how worried he was or how close he was to falling apart.


	10. Chapter 10

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 10**

"Damn it!" Hutch cursed as he slammed down the phone. Rachel Starsky looked at him, startled by his outburst. She had been a cop's wife so she'd heard a lot worse. She recognized the frustrated tone in Hutch's voice.

"What is it? It's not David, is it?" Her natural concern for her son crept into her voice.

"No," Hutch said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "That was the Captain. Jenny Brown, the woman who paid for the hit on Starsky, is missing. We were going to put her into protective custody before something happened to her but it looks like we might be too late."

"So everyone connected with David getting shot is turning up dead?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah…I think somebody is getting really nervous and trying to eliminate anyone who can tie him to the hit."

"This James Gunther."

"Yeah."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Minnie is still following the paper trail. There's so many false holding companies and bogus ownership papers that it's taking time to unravel it all and tie it back into to Gunther."

"Supper is ready. Why don't you eat something and then we can go back to the hospital. I know you're as worried about David right now as I am."

Hutch's shoulders slumped in defeat as he headed for the bathroom to wash his hands before eating. Rachel sighed softly and went into the kitchen to prepare each of them a plate of roast beef and buttered potatoes.

Neither one of them had much of an appetite for food, although it was delicious. Hutch pushed his potatoes around on his plate, eating a bite now and then. He had taken three aspirin when he was in the bathroom but they wasn't helping much. His head ached miserably and his eyes burned from a lack of sleep. Finally, he shoved his chair back from the table and stood up.

Thirty minutes later, Rachel and Hutch resumed their lonely vigil beside Starsky's bed. The dark haired detective was no longer in a coma but he was in a heavily sedated slumber. The pallor in his face was even more noticeable and the fever caused a thin sheen of sweat to bead on his forehead and above his upper lip. Even with the additional oxygen from the nasal cannula, his breathing was labored.

Jessica Allen, the night nurse came in, smiling slightly at Rachel and Hutch. A tiny redhead with brown eyes, she was efficient and pleasant but not as warm or outgoing as Abby. She began to check Starsky's vital signs, writing some notes in his chart when she was finished.

"How is he?" Rachel asked, barely above a whisper. Although her question was directed at Jessica, her eyes remained focused on her son's face.

"He's hanging in there," Jessica said. "His temperature's still 103 and I don't like the sound of his breathing."

"Will they have to put him back on the ventilator?" Hutch asked in a tightly controlled voice. He tried to push the fear deep inside of himself but it kept bubbling to the surface.

"That'll be up to the doctor but it's a possibility if his breathing doesn't improve. We're monitoring his blood gases every two hours."

Rachel reached out to clutch Hutch's hand for support when she heard Jessica's words. "What about his fever?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"We're hoping it'll come down soon. Doctor Riley started him on another round of antibiotics. All we can do right now is wait and see."

"Looks like it's gonna be a long night," Hutch said grimly.

"David's strong or he wouldn't have made it this far. Don't give up on him yet." Jessica said quietly as she let herself out of the room.

"Rachel, why don't you go and lie down on the sofa in the waiting room?" Hutch suggested. "I'll sit with him and make sure nothing happens."

"You need some rest too." Glancing at her wristwatch, she said, "why don't you wake me up at midnight and we'll trade places."

"Okay," Hutch reluctantly agreed. He walked out to the waiting room with Rachel and waited until she was settled comfortably on one of the sofas. Grabbing a cup of coffee from the vending machine, he resumed guard over his wounded partner.

Sitting in a hospital room, watching over someone who is unresponsive, leaves a person with little else to do except to lose themselves in their own thoughts. Hutch's thoughts were morbid and filled with guilt. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, he folded his arms against the edge of the bed, lowered his head and fell asleep.

_A scraping sound, metal against metal. Two men dressed like police officers. A gun sticking out the window. Fear, confusion, the sound of gunshots and breaking glass. _

_A deep terror cutting through his heart like a knife as he ran around the front of the Torino. _

_ Starsky sprawled on the ground beside the car, the pavement beneath him stained with his blood. Chaos breaking out all around him but Hutch didn't notice anything except his fallen partner. Running to Starsky's side and gently cradling him in his arms. "Don't die, Starsky. Please don't die!"_

_Stark terror at the sound of Starsky struggling to breathe as the blood continued to pour out of his body. Suddenly, the brunet's eyes opened and he looked at Hutch. His sapphire blue eyes were filled with so much anguish and pain that Hutch felt his heart skip a few beats. _

_"Where were you, buddy?" Starsky said clearly. "Why didn't you try harder to save me?"_

_"I tried, Starsk! I yelled at you to get down as soon as I saw the gun!" Hutch said in a broken voice. _

_"It wasn't enough...and it's all your fault." Starsky said as his eyes closed and his body went limp in Hutch's arms. The raspy sound of his gasping for breath suddenly stopped and Hutch knew that he was dead. _

_Hutch threw back his head and screamed Starsky's name as he felt his heart shattering into pieces. A crushing pain clutched at his chest as he collapsed on top of his assassinated partner._

Hutch jerked violently in the chair, the sound of his screams in his dream echoing in his head. Still disoriented and confused, he shoved himself to his feet, trembling uncontrollably. He took several deep shuddering breathes, struggling to slow down his racing heart. Fragments of the dream still lingered in his mind. It had been so realistic; he could still smell the distinctive aroma of Starsky's blood in his nostrils.

Hutch had had nightmares before, night terrors that left him shaking and nauseated. When that happened, he had always called Starsky and the other man had always come, no matter what time it was, to calm him down and soothe him back to sleep. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option this time.

Reassuring himself that Starsky was all right for the moment, Hutch left the room and hurried down the hall to the men's restroom. Locking himself in one of the stalls, he slumped down against the wall and gave way to his emotions. His shoulders shook with sobs as the cleansing tears flowed from his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, venting his fear and his pain, before the tears finally stopped. Regaining his composure, he pulled himself to his feet and unlocked the door. Walking over to the sink, he turned on the cold water and splashed some on his face. The cool water helped to calm his nerves and eased some of the throbbing in his head. There was still a tremor in his hands and he felt light headed, but his emotions were firmly under control.

Hutch prided himself on his self-control. Most of his co-workers considered him cold and aloof, even arrogant. Starsky was the only person who was ever allowed to see Hutch's sensitive, vulnerable side.

Hutch stared at the stranger in the mirror before him. Lines of worry and exhaustion were etched deeply on his face and there were dark circles under the haunted eyes that stared back at him. Taking a deep breath, he left the bathroom and returned to Starsky's room.

He stayed with Starsky until two a.m. before going to the waiting room to awaken Rachel. He was in no hurry to change places with her. The dream had shaken him badly and his need to stay with Starsky, to reassure himself that he was still alive, was too strong to ignore.

Finally, he went out to the waiting room to allow Rachel to have time with her son.

Hutch gently shook her awake. Blinking her eyes, she yawned and sat up on the sofa, stretching to work the kinks out of her cramped muscles. Noticing the time, she scolded Hutch, "I thought you were going to wake me up at midnight."

"I figured you could use a couple more hours sleep," he said.

"How's David?"

"Still the same. The nurse said if his 6 a.m. blood gas isn't better, the doctor will have to put him back on the ventilator."

"I hope not. Hasn't he been through enough?" Rachel asked in a frustrated tone.

"He's still got a long way to go," Hutch reminded her needlessly.

"You get some sleep." Rachel said, patting his cheek fondly. "You look terrible."

"I'll be fine."

As Rachel headed for Starsky's room, Hutch slouched down on the sofa. He knew that he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep, not tonight anyway. He focused his attention on the wall across from him and let his thoughts drift over what he knew about the case so far. He was still convinced that James Gunther was the money man who ordered the hit but he was no closer to proving it than he had been a week ago.


	11. Chapter 11

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**A/N: Certain events in this chapter and the following chapter will vary from the original episode. **

**CHAPTER 11**

Hutch paced nervously up and down the hallway outside of Starsky's room. Doctor Riley was examining him to determine if his condition was improving or not. To Hutch's untrained ears, it didn't sound like Starsky's breathing was getting any better. It seemed more labored than the night before. And his fever continued to fluctuate between 101 and 103.

"Ken, why don't you sit down?" Rachel suggested, glancing up from the afghan she was crocheting. "Pacing isn't going to make the doctor tell us anything any quicker." She patted the vacant chair beside her.

"I can't sit down," Hutch said as he continued his restless movement. "I'm too worried about Starsky."

He stopped in the middle of a step when Doctor Riley and a second doctor finally came out of the room.

"Ken, Rachel…" Doctor Riley said. "This is Doctor Carson. He's our pulmonary specialist."

"How is he?" Hutch demanded, barely acknowledging the introduction. He was edgy and short-tempered from the stress of the past two weeks. His only concern was his partner's health and bringing down the individual responsible for hurting him.

"Mr. Starsky's O2 stats aren't very good and his blood gases are still low," Dr. Carson informed him. "With his left lung injured as seriously as it is, we have no choice but to put him back on the ventilator. He has developed pneumonia which is very dangerous for him in his weakened condition." The doctors words were clipped and to the point. "Once we get the blood culture back in a day or two we may have a better idea on what organism he's colonized with. I may be able to fine tune the antibiotic to that specific bacteria."

"I want to see him before you put him back on the ventilator," Rachel said firmly.

Doctor Carson nodded after a quick glance at his colleague. "I have no objection…for a few minutes anyway," the pulmonolgist said.

Hutch and Rachel brushed past the two doctors and entered the room. Starsky seemed to be restless, the fingers on his right hand twitching and his eyes moving back and forth beneath his closed eyelids as if he were dreaming. Rachel immediately moved to his side and rubbed his right shoulder, speaking to him too softly for Hutch to make out what she said.

Hutch turned his head, ashamed at the twinge of jealousy he felt as he watched Rachel taking over what he considered his role as Starsky's primary comforter. He focused his attention on Carla, the respiratory therapist, who was pushing the ventilator into the room. His gaze followed her as she positioned it at the head of Starsky's bed. Abby came in behind her and began arranging the needed supplies to re-insert the tube for the ventilator on the over-bed table.

Unwilling to watch as the medical staff re-inserted the breathing tube for the ventilator, Rachel looked at Hutch. "Can you take me to David's apartment? I want to bring him some of his tapes to listen to." She frowned as she glanced around the sterile undecorated room. "And I'm going to find something to brighten up this room."

"Sure…" Hutch said wearily. "While you're doing that, I'll go to headquarters for a couple of hours." They stayed for a few more minutes, leaving when Doctor Carson reentered the room to intubate Starsky.

Hutch dropped Rachel off and then drove downtown. There were no spots on the street in front of the building so he parked two blocks away. He still refused to park in the employee lot where Starsky had almost died. With heavy steps, he trudged back to Metro and entered the building through one of the side entrances.

He climbed the steps to the third floor and pushed open the doors to the Detective squad room. Only one other pair of detectives was in the room, the other members of the team were gone. Carl Tanner looked up from the report he was trying to write and smiled at Hutch.

"Hey, Hutch," he said pleasantly. "How's Starsky doing?"

"About the same," Hutch said shortly.

"Everybody's pulling for him," his partner, Billy Granger, added as he scrawled his signature at the bottom of his own report.

Hutch nodded absently, knocking on the door to Captain Dobey's office. Without waiting for an answer, he went inside.

Dobey glanced up from behind his desk. "How's Starsky?" he asked gruffly, gesturing for Hutch to have a seat.

"They had to put him back on the ventilator," Hutch replied as he slumped down in one of the chairs facing his superior's desk. "He has pneumonia on top of everything else."

"What's the doctor have to say?"

"Same ole crap…wait and see," Hutch said in frustration. He felt a sudden irrational urge to break something.

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Rachel wanted to pick up some things from Starsky's place and I decided to come in and see how it was going here."

"How's the investigation into Gunther Enterprises going? Any new leads?"

"I'm still trying to tie all the loose ends together. Gunther's a slippery bastard. He always has somebody else do his dirty work for him."

"Have you been able to tie him in with the shooters or the woman who paid for the hit?"

"Not yet. Minnie's still following a paper trail. I'm hoping that turns up something."

"We identified the shooters. They were a couple of pros out of Vegas. Their names were Vincent Delgado and George Jacobson." Dobey consulted a file on his desk. "Totally independent. They hired out to the highest bidder."

"Well, we know the scumbag lawyer is tied into Gunther through this guy, Bates. And Jenny Brown is tied in to both the lawyer and the shooters."

"Any idea who this Bates is?"

"Yeah. He's Gunther's right hand man. He's probably the one who does all the dirty work for him." Hutch sighed heavily and scrubbed his hand over his face. It was hard to concentrate, his mind kept drifting back to his injured partner. "I'm going to check in with Minnie and see what she's turned up."

"I don't need to remind you that everyone from the Mayor to the Police Commissioner is breathing down my neck to find out who's responsible for this," Dobey grumbled.

"I'm doing the best I can, Captain!" Hutch snapped, losing his patience.

"I realize that, Hutchinson!" Dobey snapped back, voice rising to a bellow. "This whole situation has become a media nightmare! Every major newspaper in the state is picking up the story!" He glared at the blond detective. "Get out of here and see what else you can dig up on this scumbag!"

Hutch didn't need to be told twice. Shoving himself to his feet, he left the office, slamming the door behind him to convey his irritation. Tanner and Granger wisely kept their heads down as Hutch stormed through the bullpen.

Hutch found Minnie in the records room. When she saw Hutch, she immediately stopped what she was doing and walked around the desk to join him. "I was just going to call you," she told him.

"Did you find something?" Hutch asked hopefully.

"Maybe. Let me grab the stuff I printed out and I'll meet you in the cafeteria," she said. "You can spring for a cup of coffee."

Since it was still mid-morning, the cafeteria was empty except for a bored looking cashier. Hutch bought two cups of coffee and a bagel. He carried his order to a table at the far end of the room where he could talk to Minnie privately without worrying about their conversation being overheard. Just as he sat down, Minnie breezed through the door, a thick sheaf of computer printouts in her hands.

Sitting down across from the blond detective, she shoved the printouts over to him. "I made a few notes but it's going to be up to you to see if there's anything in there that's gonna help you."

"Thanks, Minnie. I really appreciate this. I'll take it back up to my desk and take a look at it," Hutch said. He was tempted to glance over the information she had gathered right then, but decided to wait until he got back to the squad room.

"How's your gorgeous partner?" Minnie asked as she took a sip of her coffee.

"He's still out of it," Hutch said with a dejected sigh. "It's still touch and go."

"You taking care of yourself too, Hon?" Minnie asked in a concerned voice. "Curly's gonna need you in good shape, not so worn out that you can't think straight."

"I'm okay, Minnie," Hutch reassured her. He neglected to tell her how close to the edge he really was. He knew she was worried about him but his own needs were secondary to Starsky's welfare.

"You'd better be or Starsky will kick your butt when he wakes up and I'll be right behind him," Minnie said sternly. She finished her coffee and stood up. "I have to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else and I'll keep digging."

"Thanks, Minnie." His eyes followed the petite woman as she left the room. Finishing his coffee and gathering up the printouts, he threw his uneaten bagel in the trash on his way out the door.

Back upstairs, he sat in his usual seat, trying to ignore the empty chair across from him that Starsky usually occupied. Everything seemed to remind him of his partner. Even the smell of the fresh coat of paint on the walls was a constant reminder of the day that Starsky was shot.

Dragging himself away from his dark thoughts, Hutch spread the computer sheets out on the table in front of him and began pouring over them intently, making notes of his own now and then as he found items of interest.

After almost three hours of hard work, his heart began to beat with excitement as a pattern started to emerge. Circling several significant entries with a red marker, he continued his study of the printouts. Finally, with a satisfied grin, he gathered the papers together and marched into Captain Dobey's office without bothering to knock.

"Hutchinson!" Dobey growled. "The door is made for knocking!"

"I found it, Cap! I found the connection to Gunther," Hutch said excitedly, barely able to keep his relief and exhilaration under control. Talking rapidly so Dobey couldn't interrupt him, he fumbled through the printouts and pointed out the entries he had circled.

"Federal Judge McClellan…remember him? He's the judge that Lionel Rigger was going to testify against."

"What's that got to do with Gunther?"

"The honorable Judge McClellan served on the board of directors for four Gunther owned companies. Remember, the evidence we gathered indicated that McClellan was in somebody's pocket," Hutch explained. He pointed to another circled entry. "And here's the connection to Jenny Brown. She lived in a condominium that was owned by Gunther properties…and the lawyer? He represents six…count 'em…six of Gunther's businesses. He also represents some heavy hitters in the syndicate, both here and in San Francisco. And that's not all!" he shuffled through the papers, trying to decipher his own hurriedly scribbled notes. "Gunther Enterprises also sponsors a program that helps underprivileged students get through medical school. Hell, he's liable to have half the doctors at Memorial in his pocket…not to mention the whole damned city!" Hutch 's nostrils flared. He could feel a barely controlled rage boiling just below the surface. "We got the prick, Captain! We got him! And he's mine! All mine!"

"Calm down, Hutchinson." Dobey said reasonably. His mouth tightened grimly. "We want to make sure we have this bastard wrapped up tight. We need to make sure we cross every t and dot every i. We're also going to need to coordinate our investigation with the San Francisco P.D." Dobey paused to make sure Hutch was listening to him. "What about the shooters? Is there any connection to them besides the girl?"

"Gunther owns three businesses in Las Vegas and has known connections to the syndicate there. It wouldn't be hard for him to use those connections to find the shooters."

"Keep digging. I want all the dirt we can find on Mr. Gunther," Dobey ordered. "Before I take this to the D.A. to see if he thinks we have enough to get a warrant."


	12. Chapter 12

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 12**

Starsky opened his eyes, not much just a slit, but enough that the midnight blue irises peeped through. Hutch could see the panic reflected there as his eyelids opened wider. Starsky's hand twitched, his fingers moving as if he were trying to reach for something but he was too weak. Instinctively, Hutch grasped those searching fingers and squeezed encouragingly.

Leaning down so that his mouth was next to Starsky's ear, he said in a soothing voice, "It's okay, babe…you're in the hospital and the doctors are taking real good care of you. You can't talk because they got a tube down your throat right now to help you breathe."

Starsky struggled to focus on Hutch's face. His thoughts were disjointed and muddled. From previous experience he sensed that he had been given some powerful narcotics to manage the pain. His body felt detached and heavy, no longer under his control. And the pain was still there, lingering just below the surface. His stomach and chest felt like they had been ripped apart and his insides rearranged. He was scared, more scared than he'd ever been in his life, but as long as Hutch was there beside him, he was safe.

Hutch saw the tear that slowly leaked from the corner of Starsky's eye. Gently, he wiped it away with his thumb. "It's okay, buddy. I'm here…I'm here," Hutch whispered, fighting back the tears as he witnessed his partner's obvious pain and fear.

Starsky slowly drifted back to sleep. Hutch swallowed hard to loosen the tightness in his chest. "Don't pull any more surprises on me, Gordo," he murmured more to himself then to his sleeping partner. "My heart can't handle it."

Rachel came into the room. Crossing to where Hutch was huddled beside Starsky's bed, she silently handed him a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Hutch accepted it gratefully.

"He was awake for a few minutes," Hutch said, keeping his voice quiet so he wouldn't disturb Starsky's rest.

"Abby said to expect that." Rachel reached over and switched on the tape player lying on the nightstand, turning the volume down low. Soft music filled the air. It was a Jim Croce tape, one of Starsky's favorite artists. Rachel took a seat on the other side of the bed, pulling a crossword puzzle book out of her bag. A comfortable silence fell between them as they stood watch over the man lying on the bed.

Shortly after lunchtime, Captain Dobey came into the room. He handed Hutch a small teddy bear with a red bow around its neck. "It's from Rosie," Dobey explained. "She wanted Uncle Dave to have it until he got better. It's her favorite bear."

"Tell Rosie that I'll let Uncle Dave know when he wakes up," Hutch said with a fond smile as an image of Dobey's six-year-old daughter Rosie filled his head. The little girl held a special place in both detectives' hearts.

"That was so sweet of her to think of David," Rachel said with a smile. "He's told me all about your little girl. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"She's a pretty special little girl," Hutch commented, carefully sitting the bear on the nightstand where Starsky would be able to see it. "I'm sure she'd like to meet you too."

"Is he any better than he was yesterday?" Dobey asked, looking down at Starsky.

"His fever's gone down," Hutch told him. "And he's opened his eyes a couple of times."

"Hutch…uh…I need to talk to you for a minute," Dobey said, gesturing with his head towards the hallway.

"Sure, Cap," Hutch said, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute, Rachel."

"Take your time, dear. David and I will be just fine."

Hutch and Dobey went into the hallway, stepping to one side where they could talk privately. Dobey got right to the point.

"We've had a witness come forward. A woman who knew Jenny Brown. She says she has information that can connect Miss Brown directly to Gunther."

"Where is she?" Hutch demanded. "I want to talk to her."

"I had her put into protective custody. She's at a safe house."

"Who's with her?"

"Meredith and Babcock," Dobey answered. "There's also two unmarked cars standing guard." He pulled a piece of folded paper from his jacket and slipped it to Hutch. "There's the address. They know you're coming."

"Would you mind telling Rachel that I had to leave?" Hutch asked. "Tell her I'll be back as soon as I can."

Dobey nodded in agreement as Hutch turned and hurried down the hallway. This could be the break he needed to nail down the case against Gunther.

Forty-five minutes later, he parked in front of a secluded bungalow in the Valley. The non-descript house blended in with the neighboring houses on each side. As he walked towards the front door, Hutch noticed the battered blue Ford parked half a block away and a second car, a light tan Chevy, parked in a neighboring driveway. He didn't acknowledge the undercover officers sitting in the vehicles watching the bungalow.

He rapped lightly on the door, paused, and then knocked again, using a pre-arranged signal to alert the officers inside. Joan Meredith, a pretty black woman in her late twenties, opened the door. Hutch nodded a greeting as he stepped inside and Meredith quickly locked the door securely behind him.

A second woman was sitting on the sofa in the living. She was exotic looking with long black hair and fragile, delicate features. She looked at Hutch, her slanted dark eyes wide with fear. Babcock stood in the kitchen doorway, drinking a cup of coffee.

"This is Mae Ling," Meredith said. "Mae Ling, this is Detective Hutchinson. He's here to ask you some questions. Just tell him what you told Captain Dobey."

"Hello, Mae Ling," Hutch said, smiling to put the young woman at ease. "Can you tell me why you came to see the Captain?"

"Jenny was my friend," Mae Ling said in a soft voice that Hutch had to strain to hear. "I was so scared when I found out she was missing." She paused, tears pooling in her dark brown eyes. Hutch waited impatiently for her to continue. "She didn't want to get involved but she didn't have any choice."

"Did someone threaten her?" Hutch asked, choosing his words carefully. Years of interrogating suspects and questioning witnesses told him to handle Mae Ling with kid gloves. She was frail and vulnerable, not to mention terrified.

"They threatened to hurt her little girl if she refused to do what they said."

"Where's her little girl?" Hutch didn't remember any mention of a daughter in the background report he'd read on Jenny Brown.

"She lives with Jenny's mother in Florida. Not very many people know Jenny's her mother. Jenny was only fifteen when she was born. She left her with her mother when she got the chance to come out here to model."

"Who contacted her originally?

"This lawyer. His name was Wells…"

"How did Jenny know him?"

"She got into some trouble just after she came out here and he got her off. He helped cover it up, so she wouldn't have a record."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Drugs."

"Okay, so what did Wells ask Jenny to do when he contacted her?"

"He said that she was to make a phone call to this man in Los Vegas and hire him to do a job for one of his other clients," Mae Ling said, a sob catching in her throat.

"Did she happen to mention the man's name?"

"She said she was told to call him George. That was the only name she was ever given."

"What else was she told to tell him?"

"That there was party who was willing to pay top dollar for him to do a job for him."

"Did she know what the job was?"

"She was never told…but she had an idea what it was."

"What else?"

"She gave him the lawyer's number to finalize the arrangements…then a few weeks later, Wells called her again and told her that the money to pay for the job was being delivered to her, and he told her where to take it."

"Do you know where she delivered it to?"

"Some fleabag motel on the east side of town. She was so scared when she got back. She said she knew they were probably going to kill somebody."

"What happened after that?"

"She heard about the cop getting shot the next day. It was all over the news. That's when she really got scared. She knew she was in too deep. She thought she was going to go to jail as an accomplice. She told me she had something that she could use to cut a deal if that happened."

"Did she say what?"

"She said that she had a tape recording of the phone calls between her and Wells. And that in one of the calls, he slipped up and made the comment that Mr. Gunther would be pleased that she was being so cooperative."

Hutch forced himself to keep his expression impassive but his heart started pounding with excitement. He needed to find that tape. He smiled at the young woman and reached out to squeeze her hand encouragingly. "You've been a big help, Mae Ling. I can't thank you enough for coming forward with this information."

"I'm afraid they did something to Jenny and that they'll come after me too if they find out she told me as much as she did."

"I promise that we are not going to let that happen. Meredith here is going to take real good care of you and make sure that nobody can hurt you."

Hutch and Meredith walked over to the door where they couldn't be overheard by the distraught witness. "Has she given a statement to the D.A.?" Hutch asked.

"Yes. He's agreed to talk to the Feds about putting her in the witness protection program if her testimony links Gunther to the shooting."

"Do we have a warrant to search Jenny Brown's apartment again?"

"Judge McEntire issued one about two hours ago. It covers both her apartment and a safety deposit box she has at her bank."

"Who's in charge of the search?"

"Sergeant Harlon."

Hutch nodded in approval. He knew Harlon. He was a good man. He would make sure that the search was done by the book and that it was meticulous. Now all Hutch could do was wait and see what the search turned up, praying that the tape really existed and that it would be found.


	13. Chapter 13

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**A/N: I have made some chances to the sequence of events in this scene. This is my version of what should have happened.**

**CHAPTER 13**

James Gunther stood at the picture window in his office, overlooking the San Francisco skyline. A classical music selection played softly in the background. Gunther was a distinguished looking man in his late sixties with a deeply lined face and shortly cropped gray hair. He wore an expensive three piece gray suit that had been imported from Italy.

He was annoyed because the detective back in Bay City was still alive. People carried out his orders and did what he said. And they did it right the first time or they paid dearly. The two gun men he had paid to do the hit had already found that out the hard way.

His quiet reflection was broken when his personal assistant, Thomas Bates, entered the office. A nervous, highly excitable man, he was clearly in an agitated state.

"What is it now, Bates?" Gunther demanded, continuing to gaze out the window.

"I just received a call…from our man in the State Department."

"Go on."

"That blonde detective, Hutchinson…he's exposed the entire operation. A federal indictment has been issued."

"That's absurd. What could he have found out that can hurt us?"

"He's uncovered our connection to McClellan and has documented evidence of the payoffs. He also found out about the scam with Pioneer Mortgage."

"Is that all?"

"No…there was a tape," Bates said nervously.

"A tape?"

"From Wells to the Brown woman setting up the contract on the two detectives. At one point, he mentioned your name."

Gunther finally turned to face his distraught employee. Staring at Bates as if he were a bug underneath a microscope, he said coldly, "What else, Mr. Bates?"

"Hutchinson is on his way here…to take you back to L.A. He boarded a flight that left two hours ago."

Gunther didn't say anything. He schooled his face to remain cold and impassive, turning to stare back out of the window. Finally, he said with a smirk, "it's been interesting playing with them these past few years...they've both proven to be worthy adversaries." A thin smile tugged at his lips. "Who would have ever dreamed that my empire could be brought down by two insignificant street cops from Los Angeles?"

"Don't you think we should get out of here while there's still time?" Bates whined

"No, Mr. Bates. When you're playing chess, you concede gracefully when your opponent checkmates you. It would appear that Detective Hutchinson and his partner, Detective Starsky, have won this round." The old man's eyes stared at his assistant maliciously. "But I still have some very influential friends that owe me some favors."

The intercom on Gunther's desk buzzed loudly. Sighing heavily, he turned away from the window and walked over to the desk, hitting a switch. "Yes, what is it?"

"There's a Detective Hutchinson from the Los Angeles Police Department here to see you," his receptionist's disembodied voice said.

"Of course. Please send him in."

Bates slumped down in an armchair beside the desk and buried his face in his hands, caving in at the thought of his impending arrest. Gunther glanced at his assistant with a disgusted smirk, annoyed at the man's display of weakness. He sank down behind his large antique desk. Opening a drawer to his left, he pulled out a small caliber gun and laid it in his lap, then stared expectantly at the outer door to his offices.

The door slammed open and Hutch stormed into the room like an avenging angel there to send Gunther to hell.

"Please close the door, Detective Hutchinson," Gunther said in a calm voice, always the well mannered host. "I'm James Gunther, but I'm sure you already know that." He nodded his head towards Bates. "This is my rather incompetent assistant…Mr. Bates." He looked at Hutch with an icy stare. "Welcome to San Francisco. What can I do for you?"

For several long minutes, silence hung heavily in the room as the two adversaries glared at each other. Finally, Hutch spoke in clipped tones, "James Marshall Gunther, I have a warrant for your arrest." He pulled a folded paper out of his jacket pocket and tossed it on the desk.

"Ah…yes, the warrant," Gunther said, smirking as Hutch took his handcuffs from his pocket and took a step closer to the desk. He raised the gun that he had concealed in his lap and pointed it at the blond detective.

"What are you gonna do? Kill me?" Hutch said grimly, staring unwaveringly at Gunther. "You tried to kill my partner how many times? You kill me and he'll come after you. Kill him and it'll be somebody else. There'll always be somebody else."

In a sudden move, Hutch lunged forward and grabbed hold of the weapon in Gunther's hand. After a brief struggle, Gunther let go of the gun and Hutch tossed it aside, out of reach. Springing for Gunther, he grabbed him by the labels and jerked him to his feet.

"Assume the position!" he growled as he shoved the older man down against the top of the desk. Kicking his legs apart, Hutch quickly handcuffed his hands behind his back. "You have the right to remain silent," he said in a deeply satisfied tone, reciting the rest of his rights to him.

Despite his current predicament, Gunther steadfastly maintained his composure.

"I'm sure you realize, Detective…it's highly unlikely that I will ever see the inside of a prison cell."

"I wouldn't count on it," Bates said, speaking for the first time. He had been sitting in his chair so meekly that Hutch had almost forgotten that he was in the room. The smaller man looked at his employer with a smirk, taking grim pleasure at witnessing the powerful man's downfall.

Both Hutch and Gunther turned to look at him with startled expressions. Regarding Hutch with a guarded expression, Bates continued, "Do you think the prosecution would be open to a deal?"

"I'm sure they'll be interested in hearing what you have to say," Hutch said, as he took Gunther's arm securely.

"Bates!" Gunther growled, staring at his assistant in disbelief. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Gunther," Bates said, nodding with satisfaction. "It's sort of like sacrificing your king to save the pawn."

The door to the office swung open and the three men from the State Attorney's office who had accompanied Hutch to San Francisco came in. They had agreed beforehand to give Hutch fifteen minutes alone with Gunther to serve the warrant and take him into custody personally.

"Oh, my God…" Gunter muttered, slumping in Hutch's grasp as it finally sunk in that he really was under arrest on a variety of serious charges.

"I didn't think men like you had a God…" Hutch said dryly, tugging on Gunther's arm to escort him from the room while one of the other men took custody of Mr. Bates.

Outside, a squad car from the San Francisco Police Department was waiting to transport the prisoners back to the local precinct. Hutch jerked open the back door and shoved Gunther into the vehicle. Glancing at the two uniformed officers in the front seat, he growled "Make sure he doesn't get any special favors. Let him get a taste of what he can expect for the rest of his life."

Bates was shoved into the back seat of the vehicle that belonged to the Federal agents. Since he had suggested that he would be willing to testify against Gunther in exchange for a lighter sentence for himself, he would be kept segregated from the general population for his own protection. Too many of the key players in this case had already been eliminated.

The Attorney General's office would arraign Bates and Gunther locally before making arrangements to send them back to L.A.

Hutch glanced at his watch as he climbed into his rental car. He had a plane to catch and partner waiting for him back in Bay City. He was relieved that Gunther was finally under arrest. Now he could concentrate on taking care of his injured partner. He would still have to work closely with the District Attorney to get the case ready to go to trial but he wouldn't have to spend so much time away from his injured partner's side. At least for the time being, he could stop looking over his shoulder all the time.

**I hope nobody minds me not killing off Mr. Bates like they did in the original episode, but I thought this scenario worked better in Starsky and Hutch's favor.**


	14. Chapter 14

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 14**

Rachel gently brushed her fingers against her son's cheek, checking his temperature. His fever had finally broken and the antibiotics seemed to bringing the pneumonia under control. His breathing wasn't as labored and the ventilator had been replaced with the nasal cannula. His eyes were closed and, even though his face was still lined with pain, he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. For that, Rachel was grateful.

She was still afraid, so afraid, of losing her eldest son. She had sent him away years ago to protect him, to keep him safe, but there was little she could do to keep him safe now. It was out of her hands. Now it was in the hands of God and the medical profession. Her eyes burned with tears as she thought about what lay ahead. Even if her David survived, he faced months and months of painful recovery.

"Rest, my darling," she whispered. "Mama's here to watch over you." Softly, she began to sing an old familiar lullaby. As she sang, she found herself wondering about her place in her son's life. He wasn't a little boy anymore. He didn't need a mommy. He had a life that had nothing to do with her, one she didn't fit into the way Hutch did.

As she sang, her mind drifted back to the phone call she had received earlier that morning. She had to return to New York. Nicholas was in trouble again and this time it affected her directly. He had forged her name to several checks and drained her check account. She would have to return to New York to straighten it all out.

Unnoticed, Abby stepped into the room. She paused in the doorway, smiling as she listened to Rachel singing to her son. Unwilling to disturb the private moment between the mother and her child, she quietly stepped back into the hallway.

As she turned to walk back towards the nursing station, she saw Hutch walking towards her. She nodded a greeting.

"How's he doing?" Hutch asked. He had came to the hospital straight from the airport without even taking the time to rest.

"Better," Abby said. "The doctor took him off the ventilator this morning. He still has some congestion in his lungs and an infection in one of the surgical incisions. But, he seems to be responding well to treatment."

"Thank God," Hutch said, relieved to finally hear some good news.

"If he remains stable, they may be able to move him out of the ICU at the end of the week. His mother is with him right now."

"Thank you," Hutch said, continuing into his partner's room.

Rachel was still singing softly as he entered the room. She stopped when she noticed him. "Ken, I wasn't expecting you back so soon. How did it go?"

"We got the bastard. They'll be bringing him to L.A. in a few days as soon as all the paperwork is ready." Hutch walked over to his partner's side and leaned down so his mouth was close to Starsky's ear. "Hey, buddy…how ya doing?" he asked, using the soft gentle voice he reserved for Starsky when he was hurt. Starsky's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Hutch's voice and he made a feeble attempt at a smile. "Hey, welcome back…" Hutch said.

Starsky's lips moved, silently mouthing Hutch's name. His throat was too sore and he was still too weak to speak. His eyes drifted shut again. It was too much effort for him to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Ken," Rachel said quietly. "As soon as they move David out of the ICU…I need to go back to New York. But I'm going to come back out to stay for a few weeks when he gets out of the hospital."

Hutch gave her a puzzled look, waiting for her to explain. "Is anything wrong?"

"Nicky is in trouble again. He forged my name to some checks and I have to go back to straighten things out with the bank."

Hutch held his tongue. Typical behavior for Nicholas Starsky. Even with his brother lying in a hospital, critically injured, all Nick thought about was himself. "I'm sorry," He told Rachel. "I know you wanted to stay longer."

"Yes, I did but he'll need me more after he goes home than he does now." A sad smile crossed the older woman's face. "Right now, all he needs is you…not his mother. I know you'll take good care of him until I get back."

"I've already had Captain Dobey reassign all of our active cases. The only case I'll still be involved in is the one against Gunther. I'm going to make sure he goes down hard for what he tried to do."

"I'm sure you will." She looked at her sleeping son with deep regret etched on her face. "The doctor said he thinks David is out of immediate danger. When he gets stronger and goes home, then he and I can talk…about what happened when his father died. We've never really talked about it. God, knows I did the best I could…"

"He knows that." Hutch tried to reassure her, to ease some of the doubts she had about the relationship with her eldest son.

"He's grown into a man any mother would be proud of and I didn't have anything to do with that."

"You did what you had to do to protect him. He knows that."

"But I still hurt him by sending him away."

"He doesn't hold that against you."

"I know he doesn't." A bitter tone crept into her voice. "At least I didn't fail him the way I failed Nicholas."

"You didn't fail Nick. Nick made his own choices."

"A mother still blames herself for the way her children turn out." She sighed heavily. "I know what Nicholas has become…and I know if I hadn't sent David away, the same thing would have happened to him."

Hutch looked into her sapphire eyes, eyes that were just as expressive as her son's. He could see the regret and the guilt reflected there. She had made the ultimate sacrifice for her eldest son, an unselfish act of love. Hutch admired her for her courage and her inner strength. Now he knew where Starsky got it from.

"Here I am rambling on…" she said, gathering up the bag with her half finished afghan. "And I'm sure you must be anxious to spend some time alone with David. I think I'll go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Then I'll go back to David's for a while and get some rest."

"I'll call right away if there's any change," Hutch promised her.

"I know you will, dear. Why don't you come by later and I'll fix us a nice dinner? You look like you could use a good home cooked meal."

"I'll do that," Hutch said "Around seven?"

Rachel nodded. "I'll see you then."

Hutch settled down in the chair beside the bed as Rachel left the room. Leaning forward, he spoke to his sleeping partner. "I did it, buddy…I got James Gunther. And he's going to pay for what he did to you. I'm going to make sure of that." Pausing, he took a deep breath. "God, Starsk…you don't know how much I wanted to just pull the trigger and blow that smug bastard away. I wanted to splatter his God-damned brains all over his big expensive desk." He sighed and ran his hand over his face wearily. "I'm still not sure what stopped me…it scared me, Gordo. I never wanted to kill somebody so badly before in my life. But when it came right down to it, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't kill the bastard in cold blood." He reached out and rubbed his thumb against the back of Starsky's right hand. "Now I know how you felt when Prudholm killed Terri…how bad you wanted to pull that trigger and murder the son of a bitch."

A single teardrop found its way down his cheek. "I need you, Starsky…I need for you to be okay. I'll be right here beside you every step of the way and I swear that I'll never let anything like this happen to you again." Hutch choked back a sob and closed his eyes, struggling to control his raging emotions.

He started when he felt Starsky's fingers twitch beneath his hand. Opening his eyes, he noticed that Starsky was awake and looking back at him. Unsure how much of his heartfelt confession the dark haired man had heard or understood, Hutch smiled shakily. "Hey, buddy…you doing all right?"

The silent communication flowed between them as they locked eyes.

"_I'm gonna be okay."_

"_I know you are."_

"_Are you okay?"_

"_I will be now."_

"_Need to sleep now."_

"_Go ahead. I'll be here when you wake up." _

Starsky's eyes closed as Hutch tightened his fingers around Starsky's hand, squeezing gently, silently offering the smaller man some of his own strength.

When Abby came into the room to check Starsky's vital signs, she smiled to see both men sleeping peacefully. Hutch still had Starsky's hand clasped tightly in his own fingers and his head was resting on the edge of the bed. Moving quietly so she wouldn't disturb the two men, she went about her duties and left them alone.


	15. Chapter 15

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE **

**CHAPTER 15 **

The LAX terminal was busy as usual. Hutch had been lucky enough to find a spot to park close to the main entrance. He grabbed Rachel's bags out of the trunk and followed her across the parking lot. A harried businessman almost collided with Hutch as he started to enter the building, apologizing absentmindedly before he hurried on his way.

"I wouldn't mind flying so much if it weren't for the crowds," Rachel said as they jostled their way towards her departure gate.

"I know what you mean," Hutch said, stepping quickly to one side to avoid falling over a young child who suddenly decided to sit down on the floor right in front of him.

"I'm glad David got settled in his new room before I had to leave."

"Me too. It felt good to have him stay awake long enough to actually talk to us."

"How do you feel about what Doctor Riley had to say about David's condition?"

Hutch let his mind drift back to their meeting with Doctor Riley that morning. He had been more optimistic about Starsky's recovery; although he pointed out that there could still be unforeseen complications. He had spoken with Hutch and Rachel at length, explaining what they might expect during the rest of Starsky's recuperation.

"They don't know him the way we do," Hutch said. "I still think he's going to surprise them all and come through this better than they expect him to."

"But what it the doctors are right? What if David can't be a cop anymore?" Rachel asked in a worried voice. "He'll never be able to accept that."

"We'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it," Hutch reminded her. "For now, let's just concentrate on getting him well enough to get out of the hospital."

Rachel reached her destination and stepped up to the desk to confirm her departure time. Hutch sat her bags down on the conveyer belt so they could be checked and loaded onto the plane.

"The plane will be boarding in ten minutes," Rachel said as they walked over to a row of plastic seats bolted into the floor.

Hutch nodded, slumping down in one of the chairs, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He found himself wondering if airports and hospitals got a discount for buying such uncomfortable chairs. Rachel settled in beside him, slipping the book she had purchased to read during the flight into her shoulder bag.

"Do you have any idea what they're going to do to Nicky?" he asked, automatically surveying his surroundings.

"The officer I talked to said he's being charged with forgery and theft by deception," Rachel replied. Her mouth tightened into a hard thin line. "This time I hope they throw the book at him. Maybe it'll teach him a lesson."

Hutch wisely decided to keep his opinions about Nicholas Starsky to himself. He suspected that the younger Starsky was into more than just forging his mother's name to some checks.

"The bank won't charge you with anything since Nick confessed," Hutch told her. "Unfortunately, you may never get the money back even if the court does order Nick to make restitution."

"I'm not worried about the money. I just never thought Nicky would do something like that to his own mother."

Their conversation was interrupted by the announcement on the P.A. system. "Pan Am flight 267 to New York is now boarding at gate twenty-three."

"That's me," Rachel said as they both rose to their feet.

"Looks like it's time for you to go," Hutch said. "Call me as soon as you get home so I'll know you arrived safely."

"I will," she promised. "And I'll be calling every day to check on David's condition." Rachel gave him a kiss on the cheek and a heartfelt hug. "Goodbye, Ken. Tell David I'll be back soon."

Hutch watched as Rachel walked over to the check-in point. After she disappeared down the causeway, he turned and left the airport terminal. Before returning to the hospital, he decided to detour to headquarters. He intended to keep a close eye on the Gunther investigation to make sure there were no unexpected surprises before the trial.

Captain Dobey was in his office going over the daily reports from his detectives. He glanced up as Hutch came in without knocking.

"Did Mrs. Starsky's flight leave on time?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah." Hutch nodded as he tried to read some of the paperwork on the Captain's desk upside down. "How's the case on Gunther going?"

"Good. Mr. Bates made a deal with the D.A. and he's spilling his guts. We're going to be able to close a lot of cases with all the dirt he's giving us. There's a lot of people running scared right now." Dobey sounded smug and pleased.

"What about Mae Ling?"

"The Feds are putting her into the witness protection program in exchange for her testimony. The tape that Jenny Brown made of her conversations with Bates helped nail Gunther as the money man," He looked Hutch solemnly. "He's not going to be able to buy his way out of this. Charges are also being brought about two Supreme Court judges and several other public officials that Bates identified as being on Gunther's payroll."

"Looks like his luck finally ran out," Hutch said with a satisfied smile. "I hope the bastard rots in hell."

"You did a good job on this one, Hutch. The Chief is putting you and Starsky both up for a commendation."

"I have to get back to the hospital. I don't like to leave Starsky alone." Hutch shoved himself to his feet and headed for the exit. "Call me there if you need me," he said over his shoulder.

Hutch left the building through the back entrance to avoid running into any more of his fellow officers than he had to. He knew they were all concerned about Starsky and anxious for news on his condition but he didn't feel like giving anyone an update. Not today.

Hutch pulled in Merle the Earl's body shop where the Torino had been taken after being released from the impound yard. Merle came out of the garage, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag, as soon as he saw Hutch's battered LTD pull into the lot. "Hutchinsky…" he said using his own unique nickname. "What can the Earl do for you this fine day?"

"I just wanted to stop by and see if you were going to be able to fix the striped tomato?"

"Of course I can. Merle the Earl is the genius in car repair," he said in a cocky tone. "But it's going to take awhile. I'm going to have to replace a lot of parts and give her a new face lift."

"Whatever it takes. I don't care how much it costs," Hutch said.

"That's what the Earl likes to hear." The mechanic grinned pleasantly. "I'm only going to charge you for the parts, the labor is on me. It's the least I can do for the curly one."

"Great. Thanks, Merle," Hutch said gratefully. "This means a lot to me. Starsky really loves that car. I couldn't let him see her like that."

"Just leave it to the Earl. She'll be all shiny and ready to hit the road when he gets better."

Hutch climbed back into his car and headed for the hospital. He found his mind drifting back to Doctor's Riley's predictions that morning concerning Starsky's recovery. _God, buddy, what are you going to do if you can't eat all that junk food you love anymore? Or if you don't regain use of your left hand? They won't let you be a cop if you can't shoot your gun. What are you gonna do if they take that away from you? _Hutch sighed, finding no easy answers to the thoughts that kept running through his mind as he pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Hutch stepped off the elevator on the sixth floor and walked through the doors that led to the surgical wing. He stopped at the nurse's station to make sure the precautions he and Dobey had set up were in place.

"Hi, Melissa," he greeted the nurse on duty with a smile, reading her name from her ID badge. "I'm Sergeant Hutchinson. I just wanted to make sure everyone understands the precautions we want taken to ensure Sergeant Starsky's safety."

"Yes, Sergeant, I have a list right here. Nobody is allowed to visit the patient except for you, Captain Dobey, his mother and someone named Huggy Bear," She stated, reading from the paper lying in front of her. "And nobody else is allowed in his room except for authorized medical personnel."

Hutch nodded, satisfied that the safety measures were being carried out. As an extra safeguard, Starsky was also registered under an assumed name; only those directly involved with his care knew his real identity.

Hutch continued on to room 619.

Compared to the ICU, Starsky's new room was warmer and more inviting. The walls were painted light blue with white trim and sunlight streamed in through a large window that overlooked a neighboring playground. Pictures drawn by Rosie Dobey were taped to the wall beside Starsky's bed where he could see them and a fresh bouquet of daisies sat on the windowsill.

Karen Ames, Starsky's new primary nurse, was taking his vital signs when Hutch entered the room. She was an older woman with carefully styled gray hair and a motherly concern for the patients under her care.

"He just had his pain medication and he's sleeping." she told Hutch in a quiet voice. "He was awake for almost an hour earlier and it wore him out. He's talking more but his throat is still pretty raw."

"Thanks." Hutch pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. Most of the machines had been removed from the room, although Starsky was still hooked up to the heart monitor. There was still two IV's running into his right arm and he still had a nasal gastric tube inserted in his nostril so he could be fed.

As Karen finished her tasks and left, Hutch took Starsky's right hand in his own and held it tightly. "It's just you and me again, buddy," he said quietly. "Your mom is on her way back to New York. But she's gonna call everyday for a report so you better give me some good things to tell her."

Starsky eyes opened and he looked around, momentarily startled until his gaze settled on Hutch. It took him a moment to orientate himself and brush away the cobwebs clinging to his brain. "Hey, Blondie…" he hissed, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse. "Did you get Ma off okay?"

"Yeah. She promised to call when she gets home."

"Nick's lucky I can't get my hands on him or I'd kick his ass," Starsky said in a tired voice.

"You and me both."

Starsky's flashed Hutch that familiar crooked smile. His fingers twitched beneath Hutch's hand and he slowly curved his fingers around, gripping weakly. A grimace of pain crossed his face as he rode out a spasm of pain that clutched at his chest like a vice.

"You scared the shit out of me this time, Starsk…I thought I lost you," Hutch told him.

"Ain't gonna happen…you wouldn't make it a day out there without me." Starsky paused to catch his breath. He was still weak and tired easily.

"Do you remember getting hit?"

"No…but I figure that's probably a good thing," Starsky answered with another grin. "All I can remember is hearing you yelling at me to get down."

"Well, maybe the next time you'll listen to me," Hutch teased him.

"You can count on it," Starsky said, squirming uncomfortably on the bed. "Uh…Hutch…can you give me a hand?"

"Sure, what do you need?"

"To take a piss. There should be a bottle in the nightstand."

Hutch opened the door and found the urinal. Slipping it underneath the sheet, he discreetly helped Starsky position it properly. He stepped back, noting the look of intense concentration combined with pain that flickered across Starsky's face.

"You okay there, pal?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"I would be if it didn't feel like I was pissing razor blades," Starsky said through clenched teeth. He sighed in relief, nodding to let Hutch know he was finished.

Hutch took away the urinal and emptied it, returning it to the cabinet. Starsky settled back against his pillows, his eyes growing heavy as he tried to stay awake. As he started to drift back to sleep, he said softly, "Hey, Hutch…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me too, Starsky. Me too," Hutch said with a smile as he watched his friend's eyes close.


	16. Chapter 16

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 16**

Starsky lay back on the pillows, trying to control the trembling in his aching muscles. He'd had a hectic, pain-filled morning and he was exhausted. Still, his mood brightened when the door opened and Hutch came into the room.

"Hey, Blintz," he said with a smile, trying to hide the pain that still had his muscles in knots. He should have known better. Hutch could see through him every time.

"Hey, Gordo," Hutch said, pulling up a chair. "You look like shit. Did your day get off to a bad start?"

"You could say that," Starsky admitted ruefully. "Connie, my physical therapist, came in right after breakfast to do those damned stretching exercises."

"Those exercises are important, Starsk," Hutch reminded him. "They're to keep your muscles from contracting until they can start you on the harder stuff."

"Yeah…well, now my muscles feel like they're tied into knots and it hurts like hell." Starsky whined. He hoped that Hutch would feel sorry for him but he knew that was doubtful. Hutch could be worse than any commanding officer he ever had in the Army when it came to Starsky's health.

"So what else went on this morning?" Hutch asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

"This chick named Carla came in and did some breathing exercises that are supposed to help my lung heal," Starsky said with a grimace. "Fuck, Hutch…I couldn't even do any of them right. There was this one where I had to blow into this glass straw and make this ball rise. My chest felt like it was gonna rip apart." He pouted for good measure. "And she gave me something before we started that made me jittery as hell."

"Starsky," Hutch explained patiently. "Doctor Carson told you how bad your lung was torn up by the bullets…it's gonna take a while for it to heal."

"He keeps saying it may never heal completely," Starsky said, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "And even if I do get most of my lung function back…he says I'll always be more susceptible to lung infections…even a cold could turn into pneumonia if I'm not real careful."

"You're lucky you even have a left lung anymore, buddy," Hutch pointed out.

"Yeah, I know…I'm stuck back together with bailing wire and duct tape." He threw back his head and stared at the ceiling. "I hate this, Hutch…I really fucking hate it. I can't get out of bed, I can barely lift my arms and my whole body hurts all the fucking time…even with the drugs." His voice choked up as he struggled to hold back the tears that brimmed up in his eyes. He hated feeling so dependent on everyone to do the things for him that he could no longer do for himself. "I can't even take a piss without it feeling like my dick's on fire."

"You need to say something to the doctor so he can check it out…make sure your plumbing is okay," Hutch said. " 'Cause that sounds like another urinary tract infection."

"Terrific…just what I need," Starsky grumbled. It had only been a couple of weeks since he'd gotten over a similar ailment. "Another damn infection…"

"I could always have your Aunt Rose bring you some of her chicken soup," Hutch kidded him.

"I think I'll pass," Starsky said with a decisive snort. "My stomach hurts enough as it is."

"I wish there was more I could do for you, buddy, but all I can do is be here."

"You have no idea how much it helps just to see your ugly mug," Starsky teased his partner affectionately. Although he said it in a joking tone, he meant every word. Hutch could always soothe his pain better than any medicine the doctors forced on him.

The door opened and Karen came in carrying a tray with tape and bandages. Starsky's face paled and he swallowed hard. It was time for the most painful procedure of all, his bandage changes. His heart started to race and his breathing accelerated.

"Ken, would you mind stepping out for about twenty minutes?" she requested, smiling at the big blond.

"Please…can he stay?" Starsky said, his trembling voice betraying his level of anxiety. "I want him to stay." He hated to be reduced to begging but he really needed Hutch's support during the procedure. When he'd been in the ICU, he'd been unconscious during the dressing changes. He no longer had that luxury.

Karen paused and then nodded. "All right, as long as David wants you to, you can stay."

"I want him here," Starsky said firmly. He reached out for Hutch's hand, gripping it as tightly as he could.

"David, I'm going to give you something to help you relax," Karen said, picking a syringe up from the tray. Depressing the plunger to make sure there was no air in the needle, she deftly inserted the contents into his IV line.

Starsky bit back a protest and tried to calm down. The dressing changes were so painful that he was always medicated first but it did little to ease his apprehension. He couldn't help flinching as Karen poured some saline over the bandages on his chest and abdomen to moisten them and make them easier to remove from the still healing wounds.

He closed his eyes tightly. He had not seen the incisions on his torso and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to. He felt the cold blade of the scissors as Karen began cutting away one side of the bandages. He caught his breath sharply as she carefully began to remove the strips of gauze first. When she was finished with that task, she began to remove the gauze pads from the wounds and surgical incisions. He winced and bit his lip. There were always a couple of pads that wanted to stick to the tender, healing tissue.

Starsky felt Hutch squeezing his hand encouragingly and he was grateful that his partner was there for support. He felt a chill on his exposed chest as the last of the bandages were removed. He shivered slightly, more from nerves than from being cold.

Now came the most painful part, the part that always left him shaking and biting back a scream. Karen began to examine each wound and incision, checking to see how well they were healing. She probed at each area until Starsky was left clutching the sheets with white knuckles.

"I need to roll you on your side, David…" Karen said gently. "So I can do the wounds on your back."

Starsky turned gingerly to his right side. He felt Hutch's familiar touch helping him roll all the way over. Karen propped a pillow behind him to stabilize the precarious position. The area on his left shoulder was the most painful. The open wound was packed with medicated gauze. Apparently resistant to healing, the infection stubbornly remained despite two different courses of antibiotics. He'd already had a second surgery on the wound while he was still in the ICU and if it didn't start healing soon, the doctor had warned him that he might have to have a third.

Starsky couldn't help crying out in pain as Karen cleaned the wound and repacked it with gauze. By the time she finally rolled him back onto his back, his whole body was bathed in sweat. Every muscle was tensed up tight causing painful cramping in his chest and abdomen.

"I'm sorry, David," Karen said sincerely, gathering up the used bandages and gauze pads, stuffing them into a hazardous waste bag to be disposed of. "I know it hurts. How would you like a popsicle or maybe some pudding?"

Starsky nodded as she left the room. He took several shallow breaths, trying to ride out the pain that still washed over his body. He yearned to take a deep, cleansing breath but that was impossible. It hurt too much. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to breath without effort again.

Starsky pasted a phony smile on his face as he looked at Hutch's worried face. He didn't want Hutch to see how much he was hurting, even though he suspected that his friend already knew. "I'm glad that's over," he said lightly.

"I know," Hutch said with a gentle smile. A silent communication passed between them as they looked at each other somberly.

_I know you're scared. So am I. _

_Scared hell. That ain't the word for it. I'm terrified._

_I'm here for you._

_I know that. Thanks, buddy. I couldn't do this without you cause it really hurts like hell._

Starsky yawned; exhausted from the day he'd had so far.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Hutch suggested. "I can come back later."

"Hey, I want my popsicle first," Starsky whined. "That's about all I can eat these days."

"Okay, okay," Hutch said with a chuckle. "You can have your treat first but then you need to take a nap."

"Yes, mom," Starsky quipped with a grin. "Will you stay even if I go to sleep? Please?" he was ashamed to admit that he felt more comfortable when he knew that Hutch was there.

"If that's what you want, you know I will."

"Good," Starsky said in a satisfied voice.

Karen came back into the room. She handed a wrapped Popsicle to Hutch and left the room.

"Hey, look…it's cherry. Your favorite," Hutch said as he unwrapped Starsky's treat. He held the cold delicacy to Starsky's lips so he could take a bite. Starsky relished the flavor of the treat on his tongue, the cold moistness soothing his sore throat. It was one of the few small pleasures he could indulge in these days. He finished it far too soon. Sighing reluctantly, he let his heavy eyes drift shut as he fell into a healing sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 17**

Starsky scowled at the tray on the table in front of him and sighed heavily. He had been put on a soft diet and was getting sick of mashed potatoes with watery gravy, something green that was supposed to pass for a vegetable, and applesauce. Hospital food was always so bland and unappetizing. New foods were being introduced slowly but his healing stomach was still sensitive and he vomited easily.

He glanced up as Hutch came into his room and grinned broadly. The time spent with his best friend helped the long boring hours pass more quickly.

"Hey, Blondie. Did you bring me anything to eat?" he questioned in the little boy voice he knew Hutch couldn't resist.

"How about ice cream?" Hutch said, showing Starsky the bag in his hand. "Chocolate peanut butter."

"Sounds better than this crap they expect me to eat." Starsky pushed his tray to one side and waited impatiently for Hutch to give him his treat.

Hutch took the container of ice cream out of the bag and opened it. Rummaging in the nightstand, he found a plastic spoon and sat the dessert on the table. Starsky awkwardly took the spoon in his right hand and began to eat. His left hand was his dominant hand but he still couldn't use it for much.

"So how's it going on the case against Gunther?" Starsky asked around a mouthful of ice cream.

"Starsk, don't talk with your mouth full," Hutch scolded him. "Things are coming along fine. The deeper we dig, the more dirt we find on the bastard. He's got another list of charges as long as your arm."

"When's the D.A. gonna take him to trial for hiring the goons that tried to kill me?" Although Starsky kept his voice light and casual, his stomach knotted up with tension whenever he talked about the Gunther case.

"Who knows? His lawyers are dragging things out as much as they can."

"They're probably hoping he'll kick the bucket before the trial," Starsky snorted, scrapping the last of his ice cream out of the container.

"I hope not," Hutch growled. "I wanna see the prick rot in prison for what he did to you."

Starsky kept silent. He knew how close he had come to dying from his injuries. Hell, he did die for a few minutes. Huggy had told him about that in vivid detail. He could only imagine what Hutch had gone through. He knew how he would have felt if it had been Hutch instead of him. Starsky decided to change the subject.

"Karen said they're going to try and get me out of bed this afternoon," he said nervously. "Maybe even see if I can take a couple of steps."

"Starsky, that's great!" Hutch said excitedly, grinning broadly.

"Yeah, you can help keep me from falling on my face." Starsky sighed softly, his stomach fluttering with anxiety. He had been stuck in bed for over a month, including the time in the ICU which he didn't really remember much about. Although, he was getting stronger every day, his body still felt weak and he suffered from unexpected dizzy spells.

"Might be an improvement," Hutch joked, with a fond look at his friend. He turned serious. "Come on, Starsky, every step forward is a step in the right direction. You'll be out of here before you know it."

"Yeah, just in time to draw my pension," Starsky muttered. Even though every accomplishment, no matter how small, was a reason to celebrate, Starsky was impatient. Things were moving too slowly for him. He hated being dependent on anyone, even Hutch. He no longer had any control over his own body or his surroundings. He no longer had a choice when he wanted to sleep, eat, or bathe. Hardly an hour went by when some member of the medical staff didn't have their hands on him, causing him even more pain and indignity.

"Be a good boy for the nurses and I'll give you a bath and a massage later," Hutch promised. At Starsky's request, Hutch had taken over a lot of Starsky's personal care such as giving him a bed bath and helping him use the bathroom. He'd sure had enough practice over the years. He felt more comfortable with Hutch doing his intimate care than he did letting some nurse or aide he barely knew do it. At least that way he was able to maintain some measure of privacy.

"Gee thanks, buddy," Starsky retorted. "You gonna hold it for me while I take a leak?"

"You're on your own there, Gordo," Hutch replied. "At least they got rid of that urinary infection so it doesn't hurt to piss."

"Yeah, until I get another one," Starsky muttered. "Better yet, I'll just let you get it for me."

"Did the doctor take a look at your shoulder?"

"Yeah…he said it looks like the infection finally cleared up and it's starting to heal. It's gonna leave one hell of a scar…just one more to add to my collection."

Both men looked towards the door as it opened and Karen came in, accompanied by Connie, Starsky's physical therapist. Starsky took as deep a breath as he was capable of. He knew why they were there. His apprehension threatened to overwhelm him. His heart started pounding and his mouth was dry.

"Hi, Dave," Connie said brightly. "Are you ready to try and get up for a minute or two?"

"Do I have a choice?" he said, a little stronger than he intended to.

"I know you're scared, that's only natural. You've been confined to bed for a long time. But it's time to get you up and moving around as much as possible so you'll be ready to start more intensive physical therapy," Connie explained patiently.

"Ken can help us," Karen said. "That way we don't have to do all the work."

Starsky smiled faintly. Both women were petite and under normal circumstances, he would have laughed at either one of them trying to get him on his feet. But, he'd lost almost thirty pounds since the shooting, leaving his normally muscular frame gaunt and feeble. He felt like a ninety-year-old man in a thirty-six year old body.

"What do you want me to do?" Hutch asked

"Why don't you stand by David's head?" Connie instructed him. "Karen and I will handle the bottom half. Ken, what I want you to do is to slip your arm underneath his shoulders and help to sit David upright on the edge of the bed while I slip my arm under his left arm and Karen swings his legs over the side." Hutch nodded to show he understood. Connie looked at Starsky and smiled. "David, you just let all of us do the work for now. Okay?"

"Okay," he answered in a small voice. Starsky winced when Hutch slid his left arm beneath his left shoulder, accidentally brushing against the healing wound. At the same time, Connie put down the side rail on the bed, leaning over to hook her left arm under his left armpit. Karen pulled back the sheet and slipped her left arm under his knees.

Once they were all three in position, Connie said, "On the count of three. One…two…three…"

Working as a team, and moving in unison, they moved Starsky's body until he was sitting upright on the side of the bed. He moaned and immediately pitched forward as his chest and abdomen protested the upright position.

Instinctively, Hutch threw out his arm, blocking Starsky's forward sprawl and keeping him from falling out of bed.

"I'm gonna puke…" Starsky gasped out. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he vomited all over Hutch.

"Get him back down!" Connie ordered. Quickly, the three of them laid Starsky back down in the bed and Karen started taking his vital signs.

"What the hell happened?" Hutch demanded sharply. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine." Karen assured him. "Sitting up made his blood pressure drop and he got dizzy." She smiled as Starsky's looked at their anxious faces with a puzzled expression. "See…he's coming out of it now."

"What happened?" he asked in a confused voice.

"You had a little accident," Connie told him. "Do you still feel sick?"

"A little," Starsky admitted sheepishly, noticing the vomit splattered on Hutch's clothes.

"I'll get you something to settle your stomach," Karen said, turning to leave the room.

"It's okay," Connie said. "Your reaction wasn't that unusual. We'll try again tomorrow." She smiled encouragingly. "Don't feel bad about what happened, David. Your body needs to adjust to being up and moving around again. You'll be up and scooting around here in a wheelchair before you know it. Then we can really get down to business…and get you out of here."

"Terrific," Starsky grumbled, flushing in embarrassment.

Connie looked at Hutch. "I'll find you some scrubs to put on and I'll take your clothes down to the laundry."

"Thanks," Hutch answered, wrinkling his nose at the smelly mess.

Connie left to find something for Hutch to wear just as Karen came back in. She quickly injected some medication into Starsky's IV. "That should make you feel better." Her task done, she left to tend to her other patients.

"Sorry about that," Starsky said, eyeing Hutch's stained shirt and pants warily.

"Remind me never to bring you anymore ice cream just before they decide to try something like that with you," Hutch teased his friend. He went into the bathroom, returning with a cool wet washcloth that he used to gently bathe Starsky's face and neck. Starsky looked at his partner silently, his eyes speaking volumes.

_I need you, Hutch._

_I know you do and I need you too, Starsky._

_I can't do this without you._

_I'm here. Me and Thee. Business as usual._

Connie came in with a set of light blue scrubs tossed over her arm. She passed the clothing to Hutch, who disappeared into the bathroom to change. While she waited for him to bring her his soiled clothes, she leaned over Starsky's bedrail and said, "You are getting better, David. It's just going to take some more time. You almost died. Most men wouldn't be doing nearly as well as you are after such a trauma.

"Thanks, Sweetheart," Starsky said grateful for her encouraging words. "I appreciate everything you've done so far…even if it does hurt like hell."

"Hey, no pain…no gain," she said with a laugh.


	18. Chapter 18

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE **

**CHAPTER 18 **

"What the hell do you mean Gunther's lawyer is trying to say the search was illegal?" Hutch demanded loudly. "That's bullshit and you know it!"

"Calm down, Detective…" Paul Bailey, the District Attorney, replied calmly.

"It's just another tactic to try and stall." He shuffled through some papers on his desk. "In the end the judge will rule in our favor and allow the evidence."

"My partner is lying in the hospital because of that prick and I'm going to see him pay if it's the last thing I do!" Hutch growled.

"And he will, I assure you. The charges connected with the attempt on your partner's life are strong enough to hold up against him…no matter how hard he tries to find a loophole to squirm through."

"I should have put a bullet between his eyes when I had the chance."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Bailey said, arching an eyebrow at the distraught man in front of him. "Let me do my job, Detective, and you do yours. Go take care of your partner. Gunther will have his day in court."

Hutch left the D.A.'s office, slamming the door behind him. He felt a small measure of satisfaction at the startled look on the secretary's face when he stalked to the elevator and savagely pushed the button.

Hutch had calmed down by the time he exited the building. Climbing into his car, he headed towards the hospital. He was dividing his time between working on the Gunther case and spending time with his partner. There was no time left for him, but Hutch didn't care. Starsky's welfare was the only thing that mattered.

When Hutch went to Starsky's room he was stunned to find Starsky sitting in a wheelchair in front of the window with Connie at his side. "Hey, Gordo, you're sitting up…"

Starsky looked at him, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "It's about time you got here, babe."

"I agree," Connie said in a mildly scolding tone. "Maybe now he'll lie back down. He insisted on staying up until you got here."

Hutch carefully looked closer at his friend, he saw the lines around Starsky's eyes and the pinched look to his mouth. "How about it, buddy? You done showing off for one day? You ready to lie down?"

Starsky nodded, lowering his eyes sheepishly. "Guess that's not such a bad idea after all," he admitted.

Hutch helped Connie get Starsky settled back in bed and under the sheet. As Connie turned to leave, she gestured for Hutch to join her in the hallway. "Be right back, buddy," he told Starsky, rubbing his arm soothingly. "I'm just gonna talk to Connie for a minute."

" 'Kay." Starsky said in a tired voice, closing his eyes.

As they stepped out of the room, Connie said, "He's been up for almost fifteen minutes…he probably overdid it but he wanted so badly for you to see him sitting up."

"If he gonna be okay? I mean, he didn't hurt himself, did he?" Hutch's protective instincts kicked into high gear as he thought at potential setbacks to Starsky's recovery.

"He should be fine, just keep an eye on him. If he seems to be in more pain than usual, Karen can give him something."

"I will. I promise." Hutch surprised Connie by giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, followed by a big smile. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," she said with a blush. "I'm just doing my job."

Hutch went back into Starsky's room and found his partner sleeping peacefully. Smiling, he pulled up a chair and sat down to watch over him. He was overjoyed that Starsky seemed to be stronger every day, but he still had a long way to go. The guilt still ate at Hutch's mind like a cancer. When Starsky needed him the most, Hutch felt that he had failed him and almost lost him as a result.

Hutch was startled out of his remorse when Starsky said, "stop thinking so loud, Blondie."

"I thought you were asleep," Hutch scolded him when Starsky's eyes opened.

"Naw, just resting my eyes." Starsky gazed at his partner with such intensity that it made Hutch uneasy. "Hey, Blintz, ya know, none of this was your fault. There's nothing you could have done to stop it," Starsky told him "I didn't have any place to go…I would have still gotten hit even if I did get down when you told me to."

"But, if I'd seen them sooner…"

"You still couldn't have stopped them," Starsky said, cutting him off. "You could have ended up on the ground beside me, and Gunther would be a free man."

"I almost lost you, Starsk" Hutch said, choking back the lump that rose in his throat.

"But, you didn't," Starsky said firmly. "I'm still here…a little banged up…but I'm still here and I don't plan on going anywhere any time soon." He grinned to lighten the moment. "Unless it's to the john."

"I'm sorry, Starsk,"

"Hey, what's the line from that movie?" Starsky said. "Love means never having to say you're sorry…"

"You getting mushy on me, Mush brain?" Hutch asked with a ghost of a smile.

"Hey, I got the right to. I'm the one that died for three minutes," Starsky said

Hutch felt the color drain from his face at the unpleasant memory. "And I wasn't here when it happened…not like I should have been."

"Hey, you were here when it counted," Starsky said. "You were here when I came back…"

"Why don't you get some rest?" Hutch said, deftly changing the subject. "You've had a busy morning." He grinned at his partner mischievously. "If you take a nap like a good boy, I might even buy you a milk shake later, as long as you don't puke on me again."

"Promise?"

"I thought best friends didn't have to promise." Hutch smiled affectionately as he remembered another time, another place and another person who had said those same words to Starsky. From the look in Starsky's eyes, Hutch knew that he was remembering too.

"They don't," Starsky told him, his eyes drifting shut.


	19. Chapter 19

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 19**

Starsky wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw something. Anything to release the tension that ran through every muscle in his body. He had just finished his first 'real' physical therapy session. Muscles he didn't even know he had hurt. His body felt like one big knotted up bruise. In spite of his resolve, the session had almost reduced him to tears.

He couldn't even lift a three pound weight in his left hand and hold it upright for more than a few minutes. The muscles in his left arm and shoulder screamed in protest when he had to take a rubber ball in his hand and squeeze it repeatedly. Connie said he was improving but he couldn't see much, if any, improvement in his mobility.

He tried to keep the pain from showing on his face when Hutch came into the therapy room to take him back to the sixth floor. Starsky saw the concerned smile on his partner's face as Hutch knelt down beside him and gently placed a hand on his knee.

"That bad, huh?" Hutch said softly.

"Yeah," Starsky said. There was no need for him to say more. Hutch understood as always.

"Let's get you back to your room."

"Terrific," Starsky smirked. "Then Connie can come in and torture me with those damned breathing exercises."

"That's not until this afternoon," Hutch reminded him. He straightened up and stepped behind Starsky, pushing the wheelchair down the hall.

Back in his room, Hutch carefully helped him out of the chair and into his bed. Starsky sighed deeply and tried to find a comfortable position without much success. He winced, riding out a wave of pain as his strained muscles cramped up. Pain was his constant companion these days. Even with the drugs, there was a dull ache deep inside that never went away. He often wondered if he'd ever enjoy a pain-free day again.

It had been six weeks since he'd been shot and, even though he was getting stronger, his stamina was limited. It didn't take much to wear him out and he napped frequently during the day. His treatments had intensified as his healing body was pushed to its limits.

Starsky smiled faintly, looking around his room. The pictures drawn by Rosie Dobey adorned the wall to his right and several bouquets of assorted flowers sat on the windowsill to his left. The angel statuette that Hutch had given him sat on his nightstand with Rosie's teddy bear and Ollie, the white teddy bear that had belonged to his deceased fiancé, sitting beside it. Get well cards from friends, colleagues, and family members were taped up on the back of the door.

"You have lots of friends, Starsk," Hutch told him. "They're all looking forward to coming to see you."

Starsky shook his head stubbornly. "I don't wanna see anybody but you, Huggy and Dobey," he said firmly. "Not until I get out of here." Hutch kept silent. Starsky had been adamant about this and he knew that Hutch would abide by his wishes. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends and fellow officers; it was the pity in their eyes that he wanted to avoid. Real or imagined, he didn't want anyone feeling sorry for him. He still had some pride intact. Deciding who he wanted to have visit was one of the few things in his life that he still had control over.

The door opened and a perky aide named Susan brought in Starsky's lunch tray. Smiling brightly, she sat it down on the bedside table and uncovered the dishes. "There you go, Mr. Starsky," she said with a slight lisp. "I'll be back in a little bit. Enjoy your lunch."

"Yeah, right," Starsky muttered, as she disappeared out the door to finish passing trays. He looked at the food in front of him with distaste. He had finally been upgraded to a regular diet but the food was still bland and unappetizing. He tried a bite of the shredded chicken, washing it down with a sip of weak tea. He still wasn't allowed to have coffee, and he really missed his coffee.

"Eat, Starsk," Hutch scolded as Starsky pushed the food around on his place without tasting it.

"Why? It all tastes like cardboard," Starsky whined.

"You still have to eat," Hutch reminded him. "Me sneaking in milk shakes and ice cream doesn't count."

"Then bring me something besides this, and I'll eat it," he complained. "Please, Hutch…" he begged in his best little boy voice.

"Don't give me that look, pal," Hutch warned him, giving him the Hutchinson finger. "Eat at least part of that and I might consider it."

"You're mean," Starsky said in a defeated tone. He took a few bites of his tapioca. and made a face as he swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of milk.

"More," Hutch said firmly. With Hutch's coaxing, Starsky ate his tapioca and most of his chicken, refusing to eat the soup.

"Happy now, mom?" Starsky said, finishing his milk and pushing his tray aside with a flourish.

"It'll do," Hutch answered with a smug grin. "For now."

"You know, Hutchinson, you can be a real prick sometimes," Starsky grumbled.

"And you can be a stubborn ass," Hutch countered, apparently undisturbed by Starsky's sniping.

"And you wouldn't have it any other way." Starsky told him with a grin, his good humor restored.

"You got that right, partner," Hutch agreed with a chuckle. "I'm losing my edge without you around to drive me nuts all day."

"Hey," Starsky said, as a sudden thought occurred to him. "What about my car? How bad was she damaged?"

"The striped tomato was almost as banged up as you."

"Can she be fixed?" Starsky demanded in a worried voice.

"It'll cost more than the car's worth, Starsky," Hutch said evasively. "Your insurance company totaled it."

Starsky tried to bite back his disappointment. He loved his car. It was part of him. Losing it hurt almost as much as getting shot did. The Torino had been brand new when he bought it. It was the first really expensive item he had ever purchased. It was his 'baby' and now he'd lost that too. It was beginning to look like his life would never be the same again. He felt a surge of anger at all the things he had lost since the shooting.

"Come on, Starsk. Cheer up," Hutch said, trying to boost his spirits. "I'll help you find something just as loud as the tomato when you get out of here."

"Forget it, Hutch. I've seen your taste in cars, remember?" Starsky growled, still depressed over the loss of his pride and joy.

Starsky scowled when the door opened and Susan came in to collect his lunch tray. Connie was right behind her. It was time for his breathing treatment. He ignored the perky aide as she picked up his tray, watching warily as Connie laid out her instruments of torture for his session with her.

He had a gadget that he was supposed to blow in ten times every hour. It looked like a kid's toy with a plastic straw attached and a scale on the side that showed how hard he could breathe out. He hated the spirometer because it really hurt to do the exercises, but Hutch always nagged him and made sure he did, as Connie had instructed. He wasn't surprised when Connie decided to start their session with the insidious device.

Bracing himself for the discomfort to follow, Starsky took as deep a breath as he could manage and blew into the straw. Immediately, his chest tightened up, feeling like it was on fire. Just blowing the air out of his damaged lungs made the sweat run down his face. Finally, Connie nodded and he stopped, collapsing back against his pillow in exhaustion and pain.

"Good job, David," she said, as she carefully cleaned off the plastic tubing with alcohol. "You're getting better."

"It doesn't feel like it," Starsky muttered crossly. He was irritable enough without everyone constantly reminding him of his limitations. Just the fact that he had been reduced to using his little boy act on Hutch to get his way proved just how low he had fallen. He no longer felt like a man, he felt like the invalid that everyone seemed to see when they looked at him.

"Two weeks ago, you couldn't even get the gauge to move. Now, each time you use the tube, the reading goes higher." She pointed out with a smile. "I know it hurts but it's important to continue doing the exercises to prevent getting pneumonia again."

"I know that." Starsky snapped, giving in to his frustration. "Stop treating me like a kid!" He remembered far too vividly his bout of pneumonia while he was still in the ICU. He didn't want to go through that again, especially if it meant having a tube that felt like a garden hose shoved down his throat just so he could breathe.

"I'm sorry." Connie said sincerely. "I didn't mean to talk down to you like that."

"I'm sorry, too." Starsky answered with a heavy sigh. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." His emotions seemed to shift rapidly from one minute to the next, leaving him on edge and irritable with everyone around him.

"Let's get back to work, shall we?" Connie suggested. The rest of the session progressed quickly as Connie guided him through some other exercises designed to help build up the strength in his injured lung and to improve his breathing. He was relieved when the session drew to a close. Now his chest hurt as much as the rest of his battered body.

As Connie excused herself and left the room, Hutch leaned over the railing and rubbed Starsky's right shoulder comfortingly. Starsky closed his eyes, ashamed at his weakness. He vowed to work harder to prove to everyone that he was stronger then they seemed to realize. He grimaced as he coughed, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. He sometimes wondered if he would be able to gather the strength he needed to survive his ordeal.

"I'm not gonna break, Blondie." Starsky said, opening his eyes and looking into his best friend's eyes. "I'm not made out of glass…even if it does feel like it most of the time."

"I'm sorry, Starsky." Hutch replied. He paused apparently trying to gather his thoughts. "I can't help it, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know." Starsky said with a ghost of a smile, hoping to take some of the string out of his words. "You're a regular mother hen…but I'm not your chick. You can't make this better, Hutch. It's gonna hurt like hell for a long time…no matter what either one of us does. We both need to remember that."

**I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. Please review and let me know what you think. Also, anyone who is interested in being put on a list to be a beta reader for future stories, please contact me private I/M.**


	20. Chapter 20

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 20**

**A/N : Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter. I would like to thank Stacee Phleps for beta reading the remainder of this story. Thanks so much, Stacee.**

Starsky grimaced, shifting positions in the wheelchair to try and get more comfortable. Two days ago, he'd had surgery to rejoin his healed colon and to close the incision in his lower abdomen. He was ecstatic to finally get rid of that damn bag on his stomach. He'd hated it. It was one of the most disturbing indignities associated with the shooting.

He was sitting at the window watching the children in the playground across the street. It was one of his favorite pastimes. It was one of the few connections he had to the outside world.

Ten weeks in the hospital had left him depressed and irritable. He was anxious to leave the sterile, secured environment, but, at the same time, the thought of going home terrified him. He knew that he would still need assistance for some time to come with even his most basic needs.

His bladder reminded him that he needed to take care of business. Slowly, he maneuvered the chair over to the bathroom door. He wasn't supposed to move around without someone with him to make sure he didn't fall, but the urge was too strong to ignore. Easing himself out of the chair and slowly rising to his feet, he braced himself against the doorframe as he stepped into the bathroom.

Grabbing the handrail beside the toilet with his left hand, he leaned against it heavily, grateful for the support as he steadied himself to take a leak. It took a moment for his recovering body to obey the commands from his brain to relieve his bladder. Finishing, he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror as he rearranged his clothing. He had been avoiding mirrors as much as possible since the shooting but this time, he took a long hard look at himself. _Oh, my god! I look like death warmed over. I'm glad I told Hutch I didn't want any visitors right now._

His face was gaunt, his cheekbones standing out predominately. There were dark smudges under his eyes, mute evidence of the nightmares that had plagued him since the shooting. His dark curls were longer than usual and his healthy tan had been replaced by the pallor of a long confinement.

Starsky started breathing heavily as his fingers slowly moved to unbutton the pajama shirt he was wearing, exposing his chest and abdomen. The worst of his injuries were still covered with gauze pads, the healing incisions still quite painful. His breath caught in his chest, a lump lodging in his throat, as he examined the healing wounds that marred his torso. Raised scar tissue covered his body, barely concealed by the fur on his chest that was slowly growing back. _Shit! I look like Frankenstein's monster after they stitched him back together. You may as well face it, Davy boy, no woman is gonna want to be with you now. They'll take one look at your scars and run away screaming._

"Starsk? Hey, Starsk?" Hutch's voice cut into his thoughts. "You in there?" When Starsky didn't answer him, Hutch turned the knob and opened the door. Hutch crossed the room in two steps when he saw Starsky standing there, staring in the mirror with his shirt open, examining the scars on his chest. Starsky felt a warm, comforting hand clamp down on his shoulder. "Starsk?" Hutch asked in a concerned voice.

"I guess I was right…," Starsky said in a flat tone, devoid of any emotion. "They did put me back together with baling wire and duct tape."

"Hey, it won't always look like that. The scars will fade so they aren't as noticeable." Hutch said in a soft, soothing voice.

"But they'll still be there," Starsky said, his voice breaking unintentionally. "I'll never look the same again…"

Starsky stood there, unresisting, as Hutch slowly buttoned his shirt, hiding the scars from view. But, the image was still burned into Starsky's brain. He let Hutch lead him out of the bathroom and back to his bed. Once he was settled in, he turned his head and closed his eyes, trying to wipe away the picture he had seen in the mirror.

"Starsky, buddy…come on, talk to me." Hutch said, caressing his friend's arm. The fear in his voice was apparent as he tried to get Starsky to respond to him.

"I never thought it would be that bad," Starsky finally said, forcing the words out past the tightness in his chest. "I look like some kind of fucking freak."

"No, you don't!" Hutch told him firmly. "You look like a man who went through hell and survived!"

Starsky snorted. In a bitter voice, he said, "I can still barely use my left arm. It still hurts like hell to even breathe," He glanced at Hutch, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "I feel like a ninety year old man with one foot in the grave. You call that surviving?"

"Come on, Gordo…it'll get better. It's just gonna take some more time."

"I'm sick of hearing that it's just gonna take some more time!" Starsky snapped his patience stretched to its limit. "How much more time? A month, six months, a year…or the rest of my damn life?" He took several slow shallow breathes to calm his ragged nerves. "Everybody keeps telling me how lucky I am to even be alive…" he turned to glare at Hutch as he felt his anger rising. "Fuck, don't you think I know that? But, what kind of life do I have left? Will I ever be a cop again?" His voice grew louder as he struggled to control his emotions. "Will I ever be able to take care of myself again? Or will I just be some cripple that has nothing better to do than sit around talking about the good ole days?"

"I don't know, partner," Hutch said honestly. "All I know is that you have to keep fighting. You can't give up now!"

"I'm tired, Hutch…" Starsky said in a defeated voice. "I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of hurting all the time. I just want my life back…the way it used to be." He choked back a sob as the tears began to slip down his face. Tears of pain. Tears of fear. Tears of regret. He was terrified that he would never be the same man he used to. He wondered if he would ever be a real man again or just an invalid that needed someone to care for him.

Hutch reached out and gently brushed away Starsky's tears. Putting down the side rail, he carefully stretched out on the bed beside his partner. Hutch pulled the smaller man into an embrace, offering comfort and support the only way he knew how. Starsky leaned his head against the broad shoulder of his friend and gave in to his emotions, his body shuddering with silent sobs.

Eventually, his breathing evened out and deepened. Realizing that Starsky had fallen asleep, Hutch carefully eased his lanky frame out of the bed and went in search of the doctor for some answers.

"Where's Doctor Riley?" Hutch demanded, stepping out of the room and confronting a nurse who was busy passing afternoon meds.

"He's doing his rounds." the nurse replied impatiently, as she opened one of the drawers in her med cart. "He should be here soon."

"Thank you." Hutch said, determined to find the doctor and talk to him about Starsky's fragile state of mind. As he turned to stalk down the hall, he saw the Doctor stepping off the elevator. "Dr. Riley!" he called out to attract the other man's attention. "I need to talk to you." Dr. Riley paused, watching as the blond stomped towards him.

"Why don't we step into the family room, Detective Hutchinson?" he suggested, steering the taller man to the room on the opposite side of the nurse's station.

As the doctor closed the door behind them, Hutch turned to him and said, "I'm worried about Starsky. He finally saw the scars on his chest and it really hit him hard."

"That's to be expected," Doctor Riley said calmly. "David's been through a traumatic ordeal. The scars are the outward evidence of that. Seeing them for the first time can be very unsettling."

"He sounds like he's giving up." Hutch admitted, voicing his biggest fear aside from losing Starsky.

"Some depression is to be expected given the circumstances. I'll have the staff psychologist evaluate him." Doctor Riley said. "Has David talked much about the shooting?"

"No, not really."

"Any nightmares?"

"A couple."

"He will probably experience mood swings, nightmares, panic attacks, and depression as he continues to recover. It's all part of the healing process. Medication can help with some of the symptoms but at some point, David may need to seek professional help to deal with the trauma." The Doctor smiled encouragingly. "Physically, he's making good progress. As long as he doesn't have any more complications, he may be able to go home in a couple of weeks. Does he have someone who can stay with him when he does?"

"Yeah, he has me."

"I can arrange for a nurse to come in once a day to do his wound care and check his vital signs."

"I can do all that." Hutch said "I've had lots of practice taking care of him over the years. It's what I do when he's hurt."

"Do you have any idea how much care he's going to need even after he goes home?" Doctor Riley questioned.

"It doesn't matter," Hutch replied firmly. "I can take care of him better than anyone else can."

"He'll still have a lot of restrictions. No bending, no stretching, no lifting…and no steps. I don't want him overdoing things and ending up back in here."

"I'll make sure he follows any instructions he's given." Hutch replied.

"I'm sure you will." the doctor said with a chuckle. "I have no doubt that he couldn't be in more capable hands. I believe that a lot of his recovery so far has to do with you."

"Let's just say that I know Starsky," Hutch said with a chuckle of his own. "I know when to push him and when to back off."

"And I've noticed that he sometimes needs a little push now and then," the Doctor's tone turned serious once more. "I know this whole thing has been very difficult for both of you. But I have a feeling that as long as the two of you are working together on his recovery, things will work out for the best. Just don't push him too hard and don't let him push himself too hard. His body still has a lot of recovering to do. Now, I really have to get back to my rounds."

"Thank you," Hutch said gratefully. Doctor Riley nodded and left the room. The conversation had eased Hutch's mind somewhat. He was delighted with the news that Starsky may be going home soon. Hutch knew that Starsky would recover better once he was out of the hospital and under his care. He headed back to his partner's room before he woke up from his nap.


	21. Chapter 21

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 21**

Starsky waited impatiently for the nurse to come in with his discharge papers. After eighty-six days in the hospital, he was finally going home. There had been times when he had thought this day would never come. He was still in pain most of the time, his mobility still severely limited, but he was alive and he was getting out of this prison without bars.

Hutch stood at his side, smiling at his partner's impatience. He was almost as anxious as Starsky was to get out of here. He had a few surprises in store for Starsky and, at least one of them, should lift his spirits.

Finally, the nurse came in with the discharge papers. Hutch signed them for Starsky and took the handles of the wheelchair to push him downstairs to the exit. Following hospital policy, a nurse walked along side them, pushing a cart with Starsky's personal belongings on it. He had left behind the flowers and plants he had been given with instructions to distribute them to other patients.

The nurse waited at the curb with Starsky while Hutch went to get the car. Starsky's eyes lit up in surprised delight when the fully restored Torino pulled up in front of him. Hutch climbed out from behind the wheel with a huge grin.

"You said my car was totaled!" Starsky said as Hutch came around to the opposite side to help him into the front seat.

"According to the insurance company it was," Hutch told him "But I couldn't let 'em just haul the tomato off to the junkyard."

"She looks terrific!" Starsky exclaimed as he settled into the black leather seat. He reached out and ran his right hand across the dashboard with a loving touch. He felt the tears gathering in his eyes at the gift that Hutch had given him.

Hutch folded the wheelchair and put it into the trunk along with the various items Starsky had accumulated over his long stay in the hospital. Safety tucked away in Hutch's shirt pocket was a list of discharge instructions and prescriptions for the numerous medications Starsky still had to take. He also had a separate list of scheduled appointments with Starsky's doctors and physical therapists for his out patient care.

As he slid behind the wheel, Hutch looked at Starsky with a huge grin. "You ready to go home, partner?"

"Yeah," Starsky said with an answering smile. He shifted positions to get more comfortable. It didn't take much for his battered body to remind him that he still wasn't up to par.

As Hutch pulled out of the drive and turned east, Starsky winced as every bump in the road jostled his recovering body. He ignored the discomfort as his gaze hungrily surveyed his familiar surroundings. He frowned when he realized that Hutch had turned in the opposite direction from either one of their apartments.

"Where are we going, Blintz?" he asked curiously.

"You'll see." Hutch said with a mysterious smile as he continued to drive. He drove to a secluded stretch of beach, still within the city limits, but fairly isolated from the more populated areas. Starsky frowned in confusion when Hutch pulled up in front of a one story beach house with a wide deck running along the front.

"What's going on, Blondie?" Starsky asked in a puzzled voice, as Hutch slipped out of the car.

Hutch got the wheelchair out of the trunk and unfolded it. Setting the brakes securely, he opened the door and helped Starsky out of the car. "This is where we're going to be staying until you're better." Hutch told him. "Doctor Riley said you couldn't handle steps yet so that left out both of our apartments."

"We're going to be staying here?" Starsky asked in a surprised voice, looking around at the peaceful, quiet surroundings. "How'd you find this place?"

"Actually…it belongs to me." Hutch said sheepishly.

"What do you mean it belongs to you?"

"My parents had it built for me and Van when we moved to Bay City but Van refused to live here. She said it was too far from the city to suit her." Hutch explained.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about this place?" Starsky questioned, as Hutch pushed the wheelchair towards the ramp that led to the deck.

"It just didn't seem that important. I was going to sell it but I just never got around to it. Now, I'm glad I didn't."

"What about your place? What about my place?"

"I sublet them both to a couple of guys from work. They know it's just temporary until you're recovered."

"You thought of everything, didn't ya, Blondie?" Starsky said with a smile.

"I tried." Hutch said offhandedly; as he reached out and slid open the glass doors, pushing Starsky into the house with a flourish. The interior was cool and well lit by the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

The main room of the house was a combination living area and kitchen, divided by a breakfast bar. Hardwood floors matched the paneling on the walls and there were large exposed beams in the ceiling overhead. Even to Starsky's untrained eye, it was obvious that no expense had been sparred in designing and building the house.

Starsky let out a low whistle. "Man, this is something else." he said in an awed voice. Setting the brakes, he slowly eased himself out of the chair. Waving off Hutch's helping hand, Starsky took a few faltering steps to the black leather sofa and settled down on the plush cushions. With a sigh, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

He heard Hutch rummaging around in the kitchen and the sound of water running. Starsky opened his eyes when Hutch presented him with a glass of water and two blue pills. "Ahhh, Hutch…" he whined. "I don't wanna take no pain pills. They make me too groggy."

"You've had a full morning already." Hutch scolded him, operating in full mother hen mode. "You need something before the pain gets too bad."

"Yes, mother…" Starsky grumbled as he took the pills and washed them down with a long swallow of water. He handed the glass back to Hutch with a glare. "You gonna make me take a nap now?"

"Not unless you want one."

"Prick." Starsky muttered under his breath as Hutch carried the glass back into the kitchen.

"I heard that." Hutch called back over his shoulder.

"Good." Starsky called back, adding under his breath, "Asshole."

Hutch heard the additional comment but chose to ignore it. He was just happy to have Starsky out of the hospital at last. The familiar bantering between them was a sure sign that Starsky was finally on the mend. When he returned to the living room, he wasn't surprised to find that Starsky had dozed off, curled up on the sofa like a little kid worn out from a hard day at play. Grabbing an afghan from the back of the couch, he spread it over his friend and then went back into the kitchen.

He had already stocked the cabinets and refrigerator with all the basics. There were a lot of foods that Starsky still couldn't eat and others that he could eat but only in moderation. Fixing meals that he could keep down was going to be a challenge. He still got nauseated and vomited easily, both from the medications he was still taking and his slowly healing digestive system.

Hutch opened a bag sitting on the bar and took out the bottles of pills, carefully checking each label, as he sat them on the kitchen counter. Starsky was still on morphine for the pain, stool softeners, antibiotics for a lingering respiratory infection, Reglan to aid with his digestive problems, Compazine to help with the nausea , Gas-X to help control the frequent painful gas from his intestinal surgery, Valium to help him sleep at night, and Prozac for his lingering depression. Most of the meds he took every four hours, except for the Valium which he only took at bedtime. _Jesus, buddy, all these meds…no wonder you're still out of it so much._

Finishing his tasks in the kitchen, Hutch walked through the living room and down a short hall that led to the two bedrooms in the house. He entered the bedroom that he had set up for his injured friend. Hutch had moved Starsky's own bed into the room, along with all of his personal belongings. He turned back the light blue comforter and plumped up the pillows.

Hutch's bedroom was directly across the hall but he expected to spend most of his time in Starsky's bedroom for a while. There was a cot sat up on the far side of the bed for that purpose. Rachel was returning in a few days for an extended stay now that Starsky was out of the hospital and she would be using Hutch's room.

Hutch let Starsky sleep while he prepared a light lunch. _I think I'll heat up that creamed chicken Huggy dropped off. That should be easy on Starsky's stomach. _Hutch smiled to himself as he pulled the covered bowl out of the refrigerator and poured it into a pan. _And some of Edith's chocolate chip cookies. Starsky loves her cookies. _ Before long, the aroma of the food aroused Starsky from his slumber.

"Smells good." Starsky volunteered, as he slowly pushed himself upright on the sofa. He paused to wait out a dizzy spell from sitting up too quickly.

"Stay put. I'll bring it in there." Hutch told him, picking up two plates and carrying them into the living room. He sat the plates on the coffee table and returned to the kitchen for two glasses of lemonade.

Hutch watched, pleased as Starsky ate most of the food on his plate without any additional coaxing. Starsky was still almost twenty pounds under his normal weight and Hutch was determined to see that he regained it as quickly as possible. _We need to fatten you back up, buddy. I don't think that'll be too hard between me, Huggy, Edith and your mom all cooking for you._

"Would you like some more?" Hutch asked when Starsky had finished. He wasn't able to eat as much as he did before the shooting so Hutch always offered him seconds.

Starsky shook his head with a rueful smile. "Naw, let's make sure this stays down first."

"You wanna watch some TV?"

"No, I've had enough TV for a while. Can we just sit outside for a little bit?" At the hospital, Starsky had often had an aide or Hutch take him down to the courtyard so he could sit in the sun.

"You sure you feel up to it?"

"Hutch, I told ya…I'm not gonna break. Give me some room to breathe, will ya?" Starsky chided him.

"Sorry," Hutch said, smiling self consciously. He had been protective towards Starsky even before the shooting but he was even more so now than ever. He reminded himself that he needed to back off so Starsky could start to regain some of his confidence and his independence. But it was hard. He had come too close to losing the most important person in his life and he had sworn that he would never take that friendship for granted again.

Hutch carefully helped Starsky to his feet. Ignoring the wheelchair, Starsky started toward the deck. Hutch kept one arm wrapped firmly around him for added support. Although Starsky could walk short distances without assistance, he sometimes stumbled and lost his balance. Hutch wasn't taking any chances. A bad fall could set back his recovery for weeks.

The two friends sat down at the picnic table sitting at the far end of the deck. Starsky was subdued and quiet as they sat there listening to the muted sounds of the ocean and the gulls flying overhead. It was the perfect location to give Starsky the peace and the solitude he needed to continue his recovery.


	22. Chapter 22

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 22**

Friends were gathered at the beach house to welcome Starsky home from the hospital. It was the first time some of them had seen him since the shooting. The breakfast bar was covered with food that the guests had brought with them. Hutch was playing host while keeping a watchful eye on his partner, who was relaxing on the sofa.

Minnie was sitting on one side of Starsky and Edith Dobey was sitting on the other. The two women were busy fussing over him so Hutch knew that Starsky was in good hands. Starsky had been nervous about agreeing to the small gathering of friends who were anxious to see him again, but he seemed to be handling the attention fairly well. He was smiling and chatting with his friends but Hutch could see that Starsky was getting tired. He would need to take his meds and rest soon.

"He looks good," Captain Dobey said, watching as the dark half of his favorite team laughed at something Minnie had said. "How is he? Really?"

"He has good days and he has bad days," Hutch answered. "Today's been a good day."

"How are you doing?" Dobey asked, noting the weary lines around Hutch's eyes.

"I'm okay." Hutch said evasively, unwilling to reveal just how exhausted he really was. His own feelings and well being were secondary to Starsky's recovery. Getting his partner back on his feet was Hutch's main priority.

"When is his mother coming back?"

"She'll be here tomorrow. She's planning on staying for at least six weeks. By then Starsk will probably be ready to tell us both to go to Hell," Hutch smiled ruefully. Starsky had only been home from the hospital for two days and he was already complaining about his restrictions and his limitations. "He has a doctor's appointment Thursday and then he's supposed to start physical therapy on Friday."

"Are you planning to come back to work anytime soon?"

"Not as long as he needs me." Hutch said firmly. Dobey had already been more than generous with letting Hutch take time off to care for his injured partner. But, Hutch knew that, sooner or later, he would have to make a decision about his future. But, Hutch's future depended entirely on Starsky. If Starsky wasn't able to return to the streets as his partner, if he couldn't be a cop any longer, then Hutch wasn't going back either.

Dobey nodded without replying, not entirely surprised by Hutch's answer. He knew that Starsky would always be Hutch's main concern, even over the job. It had always been that way between the two of them, which was one of the things that made their partnership so unique. Although the big blond was still heavily involved in the case against James Gunther, for all intents and purposes, he was on an indefinite leave of absence.

Rosie Dobey scooted over to the couch and climbed up onto her mother's lap, smiling shyly at her 'Uncle' Dave. Starsky grinned back, reaching out to tousle the child's black ringlets. He had always been fond of the precocious little girl. No matter how bad he felt, she could always make him smile. And this was no different.

"Are you all better now, Uncle Dave?" she asked

"I'm getting better every day, Rosie Posie." He said, using his special nickname for the child. He had no intention of telling the child how weak he still was.

"Daddy said I couldn't come and see you in the hospital because I had too many germs."

"Rosie!" Edith scolded her "That is not what your father said. He said Uncle Dave was too sick to be exposed to any germs that might make him sick."

"Same thing," Rosie insisted. "I couldn't go see Uncle Dave because of my germs." She looked at Starsky with those big brown eyes and an innocent expression that melted his heart. "Are my germs still gonna make you sick? I don't wanna make you sick again, Uncle Dave."

"That ain't gonna happen, baby." Starsky reassured her with a gentle smile.

Rosie chewed on her bottom lip. She obviously had something else on her mind. Finally, she said solemnly, "Daddy said some bad men shot you."

"That's right, honey."

"Why were they mad at you?"

"I…uh…don't know. I guess I did something they didn't like." Starsky said, trying to provide a simple explanation that the child could understand and accept.

"Did Uncle Hutch catch 'em?"

"Yeah…he did."

"Good," Rosie said in a satisfied voice. "I hope they get in a lot of trouble for what they did."

"I'm sure they will…" Starsky said, reaching out with his right arm to give Rosie a hug. She giggled and curled up against him, moving from her mother's lap to his. Edith reached out to stop her but Starsky shook his head, helping Rosie to settle comfortably in his lap. Minnie and Edith both noticed that he kept his left arm folded protectively across his stomach to keep Rosie from leaning back against his scarred torso.

"Rosie, say goodbye to Uncle Dave," Dobey said, stepping over to his daughter and his wife. "We need to go home now so Uncle Dave can get some rest."

"Okay. Bye, Uncle Dave." Rosie said, wrapping her arms around Starsky's neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Bye, Rosie. You come back again soon. Okay?" Starsky said, raising his eyes to meet those of his Captain. A silent communication passed between them, similar to the connection Starsky shared with Hutch.

_Let her come back to see me. It means a lot._

_I know. She loves you too._

Dobey gathered his daughter in his arms and lifted her from Starsky's lap. She wrapped her arms around her father's neck, burying her face against his shoulder.

"We'll stop by again soon. You take care of yourself, son, and do what the doctor says." Dobey said gruffly. Even though he would never admit it to his two best men, he cared deeply for both Starsky and Hutch.

"Don't worry. Hutch will make sure of that." Starsky said with a grunt. He exchanged a faint smile with his commanding officer. They both knew how good Hutch was at being a mother hen when it came to taking care of Starsky when he was injured.

"Goodbye, David," Edith said, as she leaned down to give Starsky a hug and a kiss. "I'll make a chocolate cake and bring over for you and Hutch tomorrow."

"Great. I love your chocolate cake." Starsky said in a pleased voice, his eyes sparkling with pleasure as he looked at the attractive black woman.

"I'd better go too, darlin'," Minnie said, rising gracefully to her feet. "You need your rest."

"Hey, all I've been doing for the past few weeks is rest," Starsky objected, but not that strongly. "Stick around, sweetheart…I promise to be good."

"Starsky, you are a trashy boy." Minnie told him, laughing. It felt good to hear Starsky's teasing her again. She had missed their easy bantering back and forth. Following Edith's example, she gave him an affectionate hug and a kiss.

Within ten minutes, everyone else had said their goodbyes until the only one left behind was Huggy Bear. Hutch immediately poured Starsky a glass of water and doled out his evening meds. Starsky took his medicine with some reluctance and then allowed Hutch to help him to his bed. After getting him settled in for the night, Hutch rejoined Huggy. The tall skinny black man was sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing a beer. "Is he okay?" Huggy asked automatically.

"He's pretty worn out. He still gets tired real easy and needs to rest."

"I could tell he was starting to hurt."

"He hurts all the time. That's nothing new."

"What do the doctors have to say?" Huggy asked in a concerned voice.

"Same thing they keep saying…it's gonna take time. He was so torn up inside, it's gonna take a long time for him to heal."

"How's he handling it?"

"How do you think he's handling it?" Hutch asked gruffly. "He's right on the edge, Hug…he's about ready to lose it. I'm just waiting to pick up the pieces when it happens."

"Starsky is tougher than anybody thinks…he's already proven that by surviving in the first place," Huggy pointed out. "He'll get through this…" the black man smiled broadly. "After all, he's got you in his corner…makes for an unbeatable combination in my book."

"I don't know how much more I can take either, Hug." Hutch admitted reluctantly.

"You'll take as much as you have to take…as long as it's for him." Huggy said. The black man smiled slightly. "At least his mom is gonna be here to help out."

"I think he'd just as soon that she stay home," Hutch said with a chuckle. "But that ain't about to happen." His voice turned solemn and serious. "I think Rachel feels that this is her chance to make it up to him for sending him away when he was thirteen."

"Guilt can do funny things to a person." Huggy said. "Look what it's done to you."

"Me? What about me?" Hutch asked in a surprised voice.

"Oh come on, Blondie…you didn't eat, you didn't sleep, you almost killed yourself in the beginning until you found out who shot him. And, once you brought Gunther down, the only thing you cared about was Curly. That's still the only thing you care about. You put your whole life on hold just to take care of him."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It is if you're doing it because you feel guilty for not being able to stop him from getting shot."

"Of course I feel guilty for that! I let him down! I didn't cover his back like I was supposed to!" Hutch growled.

"What else could you have done? You were on one side of the car, he was on the other. He was the one who was directly in the line of fire," Huggy reminded him. "Even if he had gotten down, he still would have been hit."

"But it might not have been so bad."

"You don't know that and you can't keep beating yourself up over it. You gotta let it go. For your sake and for Starsky's too," Huggy squeezed Hutch's shoulder encouragingly. "He's gonna make it…that's all that matters. You need to remember that, m'brother."

"Thanks, Hug."

"Hey, somebody's gotta keep you on your toes until Curly is up to it again," Huggy grinned broadly. "I gotta go. I still got a bar to run."

Hutch walked Huggy to the door and stood there watching as he drove out of sight. Sighing softly, he turned and began to clean up the dirty glasses and plates left over from the gathering of friends. Leaving the dishes for later, he put the leftover food in the refrigerator and turned out the lights as he went to the bedroom to check on Starsky.

Te dark haired man was sleeping quietly. He had kicked his blanket to the foot of the bed, so Hutch covered him with just the top sheet so he wouldn't catch a chill. Stripping down to his boxers, Hutch sat down on the edge of the cot and just sat there for a long time, watching Starsky sleep. It was a habit he had gotten into while Starsky was in the hospital and one he couldn't seem to break now. Finally, he stretched out on the cot and fell into a restless slumber.


	23. Chapter 23

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 23**

Starsky watched his mother from his position on the sofa as she opened the oven door to check on the meal she was preparing. The tantalizing aroma of pot roast filled the air. He turned away to hide the grimace that crossed his face as a fierce cramp twisted the muscles in his stomach into knots.

The therapy session that morning had been brutal, stretching muscles that didn't want to be stretched and pulling on scars that were still painful. The overtaxed muscles in his upper torso had been contracting into painful spasms ever since. Starsky might whine over a minor injury but when it came to the really painful ones, he internalized his discomfort suffering in silence.

"David," Rachel called from the kitchen. "Do you need one of your pills?"

"Naw," Starsky called back. "Hutch should be back soon with the new prescriptions. I'll take one then." Although he knew the pill would ease his pain, the morphine made him groggy and disoriented. He'd rather endure the discomfort.

"How about a nice cup of tea?"

"I'm fine, Maw. Really." Starsky said, smirking when he realized he had two mother hens fussing over him now instead of one. He was grateful for his mother's company and tender loving care, but it was Hutch's touch and presence that he relied on.

He muffled a cry of pain as he shifted his left shoulder. The session that morning had concentrated on his left arm, hand and shoulder. He couldn't raise that arm above chest level, the shoulder frozen in place beyond that point. He could do a lot of things with his right hand but his left one was still his dominant hand, the one he instinctively used. If he ever hoped to be a cop again, he had to regain full mobility in that arm and hand.

Starsky closed his eyes and tried to relax, taking slow shallow breathes. A persistent respiratory infection made it difficult to breathe comfortably and he was often short of breath. Pain was still his constant companion, clawing at his insides insistently, leaving him irritable and short tempered. He opened his eyes when he felt the cushions shift as his mother sat down on the sofa beside him.

She smiled as she reached out to brush an unruly curl out of his eyes. "You need a haircut." she said.

"It's not that long."

"That's what you always used to say when you were little and I took you to the barbershop." Rachel said, smiling at the memory. "You argued all the way there, telling me it could wait."

"I'm glad you're here, Maw."

"So am I. It's not often I get the chance to be your mother anymore."

"I'm thirty-six years old, Maw; I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

"Yes, you have. Too long. You had to grow up too fast after your father got shot."

"That wasn't your fault." Starsky said, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation had taken. Even after all these years, he still didn't like talking about the day his father died.

"Your father getting shot wasn't my fault, but sending you out here to live with Rose and Al was." Rachel said in a sad voice that tugged at Starsky's emotions. He hated seeing his mother upset about things that had happened in the past.

"You did what you had to do. It all worked out for the best."

"Did it, David? Did it, really?" she said "You were so angry with me for so long."

"I got over it."

"I know you didn't understand. You thought I did it because you were bad, because I didn't I want you around anymore."

"I know that's not why you did it," Starsky said firmly. "You did it because you were worried about me, because of all the trouble I was getting into after Pop died."

"I never intended for you to stay. I always thought you'd be coming back home in a year or so…" Rachel's words faded away. She caught her breath at the painful memories of the time she been forced to send her thirteen year old son thousands of miles away from the only home he knew.

"Maw, don't do this to yourself." Starsky said, pleading with his eyes for her to stop this particular trip down memory lane. But, Rachel was not to be deterred from talking to her son about the rift that separation had caused between them.

"I sent you away because I loved you."

"I know that."

"You do now. You didn't then."

"Maw, if you hadn't sent me out here, I'd have ended up just like Nicky." Starsky said, gently covering his mother's hand with his own. "Maybe even worse," a faint smile tugged at his lips. "If you hadn't sent me out here, I would never have met Hutch."

"And you would never have followed in your father's footsteps or almost died the way he did." Rachel said, her words coming out harsher than she intended. She saw the flash of pain that crossed her eldest son's face. She knew how much being a cop meant to him and how much he idolized his father's memory.

"I didn't die like Pop did, Maw." Starsky reminded her, sensing the pain and fear behind her words.

"Only by the grace of God." Rachel muttered, a single tear running down her cheek. "Do you have any idea how afraid I am of getting a call someday and hearing Hutch or your Captain tell that the next time you aren't so lucky?"

"I don't think you need to worry much about that." Starsky said quietly, the pain evident in his own voice. "Because I don't think they'll let me be a cop anymore after this."

Their conversation was cut short by Hutch coming into the house. He took one look at their faces and knew that he had interrupted something private between Starsky and his mother. Starsky forced himself to greet his partner with one of his trademark grins. He was grateful for his arrival. At least it had brought an end to a painful conversation he didn't want to continue.

"Hey, buddy," Hutch said as he sat a peanut butter sundae topped with whipped cream and sprinkles down on the coffee table in front of Starsky. It had become a ritual between them. Whenever Hutch had to run errands, he always brought Starsky back a treat. Not only was he rewarded with a happy grin from his best friend but it also got Starsky to eat something that he could usually keep down. He was slowly regaining the weight he'd lost during his long stay in the hospital but it was taking more time than Hutch would have liked. It didn't help that Starsky was still nauseated most of the time and didn't feel much like eating.

"Thanks, Hutch." Starsky said, eagerly digging into his ice cream.

"Don't spoil your appetite, David," Rachel said automatically as she pushed herself to her feet and went back into the kitchen to finish cooking. "I'm making your favorite for supper. The Paul Muni special."

"I'll leave room for some. I promise." Starsky told her. The truth was, he was hungry constantly but it didn't take much to make him feel full and bloated. The doctor had explained that was because of the extensive surgery on his stomach and the resulting digestive problems as his system healed. Combined with the constant nausea from his various medications that often led to vomiting when he did eat, it was difficult to enjoy his food. At least ice cream and milk shakes seemed to be one of the few things he could tolerate.

"Did you take your pills?" Hutch asked, even though he was sure he already knew the answer. He decided not to question Starsky about the conversation he had been having with his mother when Hutch came in. If Starsky wanted him to know the details, he would tell Hutch when he was ready.

"Not yet." Starsky admitted reluctantly, bracing himself for another lecture from Hutch.

"Starsk, you know you have to take them when you're supposed to even if you don't want to." Hutch admonished him as he went to the kitchen counter to get Starsky's mid-day medications.

"They make me sleepy," Starsky complained childishly. "And it feels like there are bugs crawling underneath my skin. It drives me nuts."

"Take 'em," Hutch ordered, ignoring Starsky's complaints, handing him a glass of water and a handful of pills including two pain pills. Starsky glared at him but did as he was told, handing the empty glass back to Hutch with a grunt.

"Happy?" Starsky growled irritably.

"Ecstatic." Hutch said, smiling indulgently. Starsky could be a difficult patient at best. Hutch understood that he had good reason to be cranky. He was used to that and he would rather see him groggy and sleepy then watch him suffering in silence because he was too stubborn to take his pain pills.

It didn't take long for the medication to take effect. Starsky felt his eyelids growing heavy and his muscles took on that lax feeling he was all too familiar with. The sharpness of the pain faded into the background replaced by a dull ache deep in his bones. He lay on the sofa listening as his mother and Hutch finished preparing supper.

When the food was done, Hutch helped Starsky up from the sofa, supporting him securely with one arm wrapped securely around his waist, and helped him into the kitchen to join them at the table. Rachel had prepared his plate, giving him a small portion of the pot roast and vegetables. She had also given him a glass of lemonade and a cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it with lots of sugar and cream.

"This is terrific, Rachel." Hutch complimented her as he took a bite of his food.

"With a little more practice maybe yours will taste just as good, Blintz." Starsky said with a smile, as he slowly chewed a bite of his meat and vegetables. The two men exchanged a glance, both of them remembering when Hutch had called Rachel for the recipe so he could make it for Starsky to cheer him up after a particularly bad incident at work.

"It was the only way I could ever get Davy to eat his vegetables." Rachel said with a chuckle.

"It still is." Hutch said with a laugh.

"Hey, no fair ganging up on an invalid," Starsky grumbled good-naturedly. "I eat baked potatoes…that's a vegetable. And a deluxe pizza has all the basic food groups, including vegetables."

"That's splitting hairs," Hutch reminded him. "Green peppers, onions, and tomatoes on your tacos and your burritos doesn't count either."

"Come on, Hutch," Starsky whined plaintively. "You know I can't eat any of the good stuff right now."

Rachel and Hutch both laughed at the forlorn expression on Starsky's face. His preference for junk food was a basic part of his diet, one that both Rachel and Hutch had tried for years to correct with minimal success.

"Eat." Rachel told him sternly, nodding at Starsky's half finished meal.

"You heard your mother, pal," Hutch said in a teasing tone. "Better do what she says or she'll send you to bed without your supper."

Starsky dutifully finished the food on his plate and declined seconds. His stomach was churning uneasily and he wasn't sure if what he had already eaten would stay down or not. He had learned the hard way not to overdo it unless he wanted to spend time hugging the toilet as the food made a repeat appearance.

While Rachel did the dishes, Starsky and Hutch watched a sitcom on TV. By eight o'clock, Starsky was starting to doze off, so Hutch suggested a bath and then bed. Starsky didn't argue. He still spent the majority of his time sleeping, exhausted by any change in his normal routine. And he was still feeling the residual effects of the therapy session earlier that day.

After helping Starsky with his bath and getting him settled in for the night, Hutch rejoined Rachel in the living room. She poured him a cup of coffee and sat down beside him on the sofa.

"I know David didn't really say much about it," Rachel said quietly. "But that therapy session this morning was really hard on him."

"I know it was," Hutch agreed in a tired voice. "I could see it in his face when I picked him up afterwards how much he was hurting."

"Does he have any appointments tomorrow?"

"No. He has another doctor's appointment Monday with Doctor Carson and then another therapy session after that."

"Is that the doctor for his lung?" Rachel asked. David had so many different doctors and therapists still caring for him that she had trouble keeping their names straight.

Hutch nodded. "Yeah, he's gonna run some tests to see how well his lung is healing. So, Monday will be even worse on him than today was."

"I wish there was more I could do. I hate to see him in so much pain all the time."

"I know. So do I. And it's gonna get harder before it gets any easier."

"He's pushing himself so hard. I'm just afraid he'll overdo it and end up hurting himself again."

"You know how stubborn he is. He wants everything back to normal now instead of six months from now."

"What if things are never back to normal again?"

"Then we'll deal with that when the time comes," Hutch said, taking a sip of his coffee. He stood up to take his cup into the kitchen. "I'm gonna turn in. Good night, Rachel."

"Good night, Ken."


	24. Chapter 24

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 24**

"EVERYBODY FEELS SORRY FOR ME! MA, NICKY, OUR FRIENDS…EVERYONE!" Starsky yelled, making no effort to keep his voice down or his anger in check. "EVEN YOU, HUTCHINSON! THEY ALL LOOK AT ME AND THINK…OH, POOR STARSKY. HE WAS SUCH A GOOD COP AND LOOK AT HIM NOW!"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Hutch snapped, struggling to keep his own temper under control and his voice down. "I've never felt sorry for you! I know the hell you've been through! I respect you for fighting so hard to get your life back!" He paused to catch his breathe, glaring at his highly excitable partner. "So, maybe you need to stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself!"

"WHY SHOULDN'T I FEEL SORRY FOR MYSELF?" Starsky continued to rant. "I'M THE ONE THAT HAD MY INSIDES REARRANGED AND PATCHED BACK TOGETHER AGAIN! I'M THE ONE WHO HATES WHAT HE SEES IN THE MIRROR EVERY DAY!" Starsky was breathing heavily, his eyes sparkling with rage as his emotions overwhelmed him.

"STOP IT!" Hutch finally yelled back, grabbing Starsky's shoulders to get his attention. "DON'T DO THIS TO YOURSELF…TO US!"

"Let go of me," Starsky said in a soft, quiet voice that sent a chill down Hutch's spine. It was the same voice that could send a suspect to his knees when Starsky used it on the streets. He pulled out of Hutch's grasp and disappeared into his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Hutch's shoulders slumped in defeat as he turned and trudged back to the living room. He was grateful that Rachel was at the grocery store and hadn't been there to hear Starsky's outburst after he and Hutch had returned from Starsky's therapy session.

Starsky had been home from the hospital for almost six weeks and his progress had been slow but steady. He was off most of the meds except for some milder pain pills as needed, the Prozac for his depression and the valium to help him sleep at night. He still had frequent bouts of nausea and his appetite was still dicey at best but he was better.

He had regained most of the weight he'd lost and the grueling therapy sessions had rebuilt his muscle tone and increased his stamina. What worried Hutch was the continuing nightmares, increasing mood swings, insomnia, and panic attacks that Starsky was experiencing. He had been tottering on the edge for days, walking a thin line between solid ground and the abyss.

His emotional breakdown had come about when his physical therapist informed Starsky that he had reached a plateau in his recovery and that there may only be minimal improvement at best in his present level of functioning. He had only regained eighty percent use of his left arm and hand that was not acceptable to Starsky. It was enough, along with his continuing problems with his diminished lung capacity, to keep him from going back on the streets as a cop.

Hutch was sitting on the front deck, staring out at the horizon, deeply lost in his own thoughts, when he heard Starsky step up behind him.

"Hey, Blintz," Starsky said with a sheepish smile as he leaned against the deck railing, glancing down at his partner on the top step. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come unglued like that. I don't know what's wrong with me lately." he sighed deeply "It seems like it everything rubs me the wrong way lately and I've been taking it out on you.." He said apologetically.

"Hey, you've earned the right to be a little cranky," Hutch said with a faint smile.

"But, that doesn't give me the right to take it out on you."

"That's what I'm here for," Hutch said offhandedly. "Better me than some poor slob on the street who doesn't know what's going on. They might punch out your lights."

"That what you wanna do, Hutch? Punch out my lights?"

"Sometimes…" Hutch admitted ruefully "But, not today."

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"Always," Hutch said with a genuine smile of affection. He lowered his head and stared at the wood beneath his feet. He wondered if Starsky would want to punch out his lights when he brought up what was on his mind. It was a risk he had to take. "Starsk, maybe you need to think about going to talk to the therapist that Doctor Riley told you about."

"A shrink?" Starsky said in a stunned voice. "You think I'm crazy, Blondie?"

"Of course not." Hutch said defensively. "But I do think you need to talk to someone besides me about what happened to you."

"Ahhhh, Hutch…" Starsky whined "I have to talk to the department shrink before I can go back to work…isn't that bad enough?"

"No. You need to talk to somebody who specializes in dealing with people who've been through the same kind of trauma you have. It can't hurt, Starsk. Will you at least think about it?"

"Maybe…" Starsky said grudgingly. Their conversation was cut short by Rachel's return from the store. Both men walked down to the drive to help her with the bags. Starsky still wasn't supposed to lift anything heavy but he could handle a few light bags of groceries.

The rest of the day passed quietly without any further outbursts from Starsky. Hutch splurged and ordered two pizzas for supper. It was worth it to see the delighted expression on Starsky's face as he ate his first piece of pizza since before the shooting, even if it was missing the more spicy ingredients that could still upset Starsky's digestive system.

Starsky was feeling well enough to stay up with Hutch and watch a movie on TV. They turned in shortly after ten p.m. Hutch was jolted out of a sound sleep around two a.m. by Starsky's screams. Bouncing to his feet, he reached for his wildly thrashing partner.

"Starsk," he said quietly, gently stroking Starsky's arm as he eased him out of the nightmare. Starsky's eyes flew open, darting around the room frantically, until he focused on Hutch's face. Gasping for breath, Starsky grabbed Hutch's arms tightly as he forced his breathing into a more normal pattern. Hutch ran his fingers through the sweaty curls as Starsky calmed down, the fading images of the nightmare loosening their grip on his mind. "You okay, partner?" Hutch asked in a concerned voice.

"Yeah, just give me a minute," Starsky panted as his heart rate slowed to a normal rhythm.

"Were you dreaming about the shooting again?" Hutch asked, even though he already knew the answer. Starsky had started re-living the shooting in vivid detail in his nightmares while he was still in the hospital.

Starsky nodded, tightening his grip on Hutch's arms, his physical presence offering support and security to the frightened man. "It's always so real…" Starsky gasped in a ragged breath. "I can hear you shouting at me to get down and then I can feel the bullets hitting my body, ripping me apart." his voice broke "It hurts so fucking much," he buried his face against Hutch's shoulder, his body trembling. "I'm scared, Hutch. All the time."

"I'm scared too, buddy." Hutch whispered soothingly. "I'm scared that if it happens again, you might not make it the next time. The doctors said your body couldn't handle that kind of trauma again." He took a deep shuddering breath as he finally revealed his own deepest fears to his partner. "I couldn't go through this again, Starsk. It kills me to have to watch you struggle to just take a breath. When you hurt, I hurt just as much."

"I'm tired, Hutch." Starsky said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm tired of hurting all the fucking time. I'm tried of not being able to do things that I used to take for granted. Sometimes…sometimes I think it would have easier to just stay dead."

"Don't say that!" Hutch said more loudly than he intended. "Don't you ever say anything like that again!" There was a part of him that wanted to grab Starsky and shake him but instead, he wrapped his arms around his friend and held him tightly. "Don't you know that I can't live without you? If you had died, then I wouldn't lasted very long by myself."

"I'm sorry. I fucked up everybody's life." Starsky said in a muffled voice.

"No, you didn't." Hutch said, instinctively soothing his distraught partner. "You've been through hell and back but you survived. That's more than most men could have done. Maybe if you talk to somebody about all this crap that's going through your head it'll help make it go away."

"Okay…" Starsky muttered in a defeated voice, drained of emotion. He was too tired to go on fighting. "Call that therapist tomorrow and find out when they can see me."

"You're making the right decision, Starsky." Hutch said in a relieved voice, gently petting the trembling body in his arms.

"Will you lay down with me? Just until I go back to sleep?" Starsky asked in a small voice.

"Scoot over…and don't steal the blanket." Hutch said with a smile, as he eased Starsky back down onto the bed and stretched out beside him. Starsky sighed softly and curled up against Hutch, closing his eyes and drifting back into a deep, peaceful sleep. Hutch smiled into the darkness as he lay there beside his partner. After one of his nightmares, it seemed like the only way Starsky felt secure enough to go back to sleep was when Hutch laid with him. It had become a familiar routine that offered them both a certain measure of comfort.


	25. Chapter 25

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 25**

Starsky paced the empty waiting room impatiently. He almost wished that he had taken Hutch up on his offer to stay with him for his first appointment with the psychologist Dr. Riley had suggested. But, Starsky had told Hutch to come back and pick him up in two hours. This was something that he had to do on his own. He knew that the psychologist, a woman named April Stewart, had contacted his various doctors and gotten reports on his medical history. She had also talked to Hutch to gather some background information on their relationship.

Starsky wasn't entirely comfortable talking to anyone but Hutch about things that he considered personal issues but the nightmares and panic attacks were taking their toll. He was willing to try anything to make them stop. Even if it meant baring his soul to a stranger. A rueful smile tugged at his lips. Through the years, Starsky had been required to see the police psychologist on numerous occasions so he could be cleared fit to return to duty. He had become adapt at playing word games to keep from divulging too much personal information to anyone.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he started when a soft voice behind him said, "David?"

Stumbling, and almost losing his balance as he turned around, he caught himself in time, flushing with embarrassment at his awkwardness. He found himself facing a woman about his age with warm brown eyes and long chestnut colored hair hanging down the middle of her back in a thick braid.

"Yeah, that's me." he said self-consciously, his guard instinctively going up now that his session with the doctor was about to begin.

"I'm April Stewart." the woman said pleasantly, gesturing for him to step into her office. "You can call me April. I hate being called Ms. Stewart." She smiled warmly. "Do you mind if I call you David? Or would you prefer that I call you something else?"

"Dave or David…either one is fine." Starsky told her as he entered the neatly arranged office. A large picture window overlooked the city and the only furnishings were a comfortable looking brown leather sofa and matching chair with a coffee table placed between them.

"Please, have a seat." April said, taking a seat in the chair facing the sofa. She leaned back in her chair and looked at him closely as he sat down on the sofa. "I've read your medical records. You have quite a history, even for a highly decorated police officer."

"Shit happens. It comes with the badge."

"This last incident was almost killed you. How do you feel about that?"

"How am I supposed to feel about that?" Starsky snapped, his tone a bit sharper than he intended. "My whole fucking life was turned upside down in a few seconds."

"And you resent that, don't you? It makes you angry."

"Wouldn't you resent it if it happened to you? Wouldn't it make you angry?"

"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you and how you feel," April pointed out in a calm voice that irritated Starsky. "What do you remember about the shooting?"

"Nothing much…just Hutch yelling at me to get down and then the pain," he paused to compose himself. "Terrible pain…then nothing. Not until I woke up in the hospital two weeks later."

"How did you feel when you woke up and found out it was two weeks later?"

"It hurt so fucking much I thought I was gonna die. I just wanted it to stop…not hurt anymore."

"But, you didn't die. Did you?"

"Actually, I did." Starsky said with a ghost of a smile. "For four minutes, the day after the shooting."

"How did you feel when you found out about that?"

"Sometimes I think I'd have better off staying dead."

"Why?"

"Because then I wouldn't have to be here spilling my guts to you."

"You don't like talking about your feelings, do you?"

"I don't see where how I feel is anybody else's business."

"Even if the way you feel affects the people around you? People who love you and care about you?"

"I don't wanna talk about this anymore," Starsky said, starting to rise to his feet.

"Sit down, David," April said firmly. "Running away isn't going to make things any better."

"And talking about it is?" Starsky growled as he sank back down on the sofa.

"It's a start." She smiled encouragingly but Starsky didn't want to listen to what she had to say. His heart was starting to pound and he could feel the sweat on his palms. The last thing he wanted to do was have a panic attack in her office. She said something but Starsky had been too preoccupied to hear her.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I asked you if there's ever been any other time in your life when you felt the same way you do right now? When you had the same kind of nightmares, panic attacks…depression," she repeated "Anytime at all?"

"Yeah, everyday when I'm out there on the streets doing my job."

"I'm serious, David."

"So am I."

"It's not the same thing and I think you know that. Was there any other time in your life when you felt the same way you do now?" she repeated patiently.

"Once…" Starsky admitted reluctantly, but refusing to say more.

"And that was…" April probed insistently.

"After I came back from 'Nam."

"How long were you in Vietnam?"

"Eighteen months."

"Did you see a lot of action?"

"Too fucking much. I lost a lot of good friends over there."

"I'm sure you did. Were you ever injured while you were over there?"

""Depends on what you mean by injured." Starsky said evasively. "I was shot in the shoulder once."

"How else were you injured, David? Besides being shot."

"I was a guest of the Viet Cong for almost six weeks. You figure it out." Starsky snapped.

"You were a P.O.W." April said, repeating the obvious. "Is that why you were sent home?"

"Yeah, they gave me a medical discharge."

"And you had nightmares, panic attacks, and periods of depression after you came back home? Correct?"

"Yeah."

"How long did it last?"

"I guess it was almost a year before I finally stopped waking up screaming in the middle of the night…before I stopped seeing pieces of my friends blown to hell whenever I closed my eyes."

"Those are classic symptoms of what they used to call battle fatigue or combat stress." April said "There are researchers today who believe that it's not just men who served in the military who suffer those symptoms but anyone who has been through a traumatic life altering event." She looked at him intently. "I think that getting shot in the chest and stomach four times at close range would fall into that category, don't you?"

"So, talking about it is supposed to make it better?" Starsky smirked. "I don't think so."

"Did you ever talk to anybody about what happened over in Vietnam?"

"No…I shoved down deep inside, locked it up and threw away the key."

"Did that make it go away? Did it make you forget what happened over there?"  
"No, I just don't let myself think about it anymore."

"That's important to you, isn't it, David? Being in control. Handling your problems on your own without any help from anyone?"

"What's wrong with that?" Starsky asked defensively.

"There's nothing wrong with it but sometimes people need a little help to deal with the shit that life throws at them. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I've got Hutch. That's all the help I need."

"Hutch means a lot to you. Doesn't he?"

"He's not just my partner, he's my best friend. I trust him with my life."

"Was Hutch there the day you got shot?"

"You already know he was."

"He couldn't save you that day, could he?"

"It wasn't his fault!" Starsky snapped, his eyes flashing with anger, automatically coming to the defense of his partner. "He yelled at me to get down."

"But you couldn't. There wasn't enough time and you didn't have any place to go. You were caught right in the line of fire. It wasn't your fault either, David."

"I never said it was."

"But you think that sometimes, don't you? That if you'd been paying more attention, you would have seen them sooner. If you'd drawn your gun a little faster, you might have been able to shoot them before they shot you." She paused and then added "And there's a part of you that's glad it was you that got hit and not Hutch."

"OF COURSE I'M GLAD IT WAS ME AND NOT HUTCH!" Starsky yelled, finally losing control of his fragile emotions at the impact those words had on him. "I CAN HANDLE IT BETTER THAN HE COULD!"

"Why?" April asked, remaining undaunted by his emotional outburst. "What makes you so different? Are you saying that you're a better man than Hutch?"

"NO!" Starsky snarled, giving vent to the anger that was boiling through his veins. 'THERE AIN'T NOBODY BETTER THAN HUTCH…ESPECIALLY NOT ME."

"So you think that Hutch is better than you." April stated, rephrasing his words and throwing them back at him. "How?"

"He's smarter than me for one thing. He always has been."

"Are you saying you're not smart, David?"

"No, it's not like that." Starsky said in a frustrated tone, frowning as he tried to analyze his own distorted feelings. "I just meant that Hutch is the one with the college education…not me. I never got the chance to go to college." His voice turned rough with a hint of bitterness. "I got an invitation to see the world courtesy of Uncle Sam."

"So tell me the ways that you're smarter than Hutch."

A thin smile tugged at his lips. "I had to teach him everything he knows about the streets." Starsky said. "He'd have never survived out there otherwise."

"So Hutch might have the book smarts but you're the one with the street smarts." April said. "Doesn't that balance things out?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Starsky admitted, putting a cap on his anger as she forced him to re-examine his unique relationship with his blond partner.

"Are you still scared of dying, David?" April asked, suddenly changing the subject and catching him off guard momentarily. "Or are you more afraid of living?"

"Dying is easy…it's the living that's hell." Starsky smirked.

"I can help you, David. But, only if you let me and only if you want help. It's all up to you."

"Does this mean I don't have to come back if I don't want to?"

"It's entirely up to you. But, I hope you'll reconsider and make another appointment to see me so I can help you work through these issues you keep bottled up inside of you. At least give me a chance to help you get rid of the nightmares and the panic attacks."

"Maybe," Starsky said, relieved that session was coming to a close. Even though he would never admit it out loud, some of what she had said made perfect sense to him. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to see her one more time after all. "I'll think about it."

He rose to his feet and reached out to shake April's hand with a faint smile. Turning, he left the office and found Hutch waiting for him in the waiting room, pacing the floor impatiently.

"How'd it go, Buddy?" Hutch asked anxiously as he stopped to look at his best friend closely.

"Okay," Starsky said evasively. He didn't feel like talking about the session with Hutch, not yet anyway. He was reluctant to admit that she had made him look at his life and the shooting in a different light. Now, he needed time to process the things they had discussed. For the first time since the shooting, he began to think seriously about his future.


	26. Chapter 26

**THE MAN HE USED TO BE**

**CHAPTER 26**

Hutch knew the minute he walked in the house that something was wrong. Starsky was sitting on the sofa, staring into space. Mail was scattered on the coffee table and he held a piece of crumbled up paper clutched tightly in his hand.

"Starsky? What is it? What's wrong?" Hutch demanded anxiously as he sat down beside his partner. Starsky didn't respond but continued staring at the wall as if he hadn't heard Hutch's question. Gently, Hutch pried open Starsky's tightly clutched fingers and removed the crumbled piece of paper, smoothing it out so he could read it.

_To Detective Sergeant First Class David Michael Starsky_

_From The Bay City Police Department Review Board_

_Dear Sergeant Starsky,_

_Based on reports submitted by your physicians in reference to the incident of May 15__th__, 1976, it is the decision of this board that you are physically unfit to return to active duty and that this is a permanent condition. _

_Therefore, effective immediately, your active duty status with the Bay City Police Department is hereby terminated. Your disability insurance coverage will continue for an additional sixty days, at which time, you will start receiving permanent disability pay based on injuries sustained in the line of duty. You will retain full medical benefits. _

_The department would like to express it's gratitude for ten years of exemplary service to the Bay City Police Department The decision of this board will become final thirty days from today's date unless this ruling is appealed in writing before then. _

"Fuck!" Hutch snarled, as he crumbled the paper back into a ball and threw it in the general direction of the fireplace. The news was not totally unexpected. Hutch had realized for some time that it was a very real possibility but he had continued to hold out hope for Starsky's sake. Now that hope was gone, for both of them. He turned his attention back to his strangely subdued partner. "Starsky, come on…talk to me!" he urged anxiously, rubbing Starsky's tense muscles encouragingly.

Finally, Starsky turned his head and looked at Hutch flatly, his eyes lost and devoid of emotion. In an equally flat, toneless voice, he said, "They're not even going to give me a chance to make it back, Hutch. They're not going to let me try and re-qualify for the streets."

"They can't do this to you!" Hutch declared, immediately coming to Starsky's defense. He knew better than anyone how hard Starsky had fought to get his life back. Hutch had been there every step of the way. He had watched Starsky struggle, curse, and deal with pain that would have destroyed a lesser man just to be able to do things most people took for granted.

"Yes, they can." Starsky said in a flat toneless voice. "As long as the doctors say I'm not fit for active duty. You know that as well as I do." he sighed softly and looked at his best friend for answers. "What am I gonna do, Hutch? I don't know how to be anything but a cop. It's all I've ever wanted to do with my life. All I've ever wanted to be."

"I talked to Dobey today and he had a suggestion." Hutch said "The Police Commissioner is looking for two men to act as liaison officers between the department and the Academy. To teach the cadets what it's really like out there on the streets, not just what they learn out of books, how to drive, street skills, that kind of thing. We'd spend part of our time at the Academy and part of it back at headquarters working with the rookies. And the best part, we'd still be under Dobey's command."

"That's great for you," Starsky muttered, lowering his head to avoid Hutch's eyes. "You're the one with the college degree, not me. I barely made it through high school and I wouldn't have graduated from the Academy if it hadn't been for your help."

"That's just it…you have all the education you need for this job," Hutch told him "experience on the streets. That's what they're looking for. It means more than any degree. It wouldn't be official until after the first of the year. That's plenty of time to get you back in fighting shape." Hutch tried to curb his own enthusiasm. This had to be Starsky's choice and his decision.

"I can't let you give up your career because of me, Blondie." Starsky said. "You've worked just as hard as I have to get where you are."

"Don't you get it? I don't give a damn about any of that, not if you can't go back on the streets with me. This way we'll still be partners, have more regular hours for a chance and not have to worry about getting shot anymore."

"And you've been talking to Dobey about this?"

"Yeah, I have. I knew this might happen. Hell, you knew it too." Hutch said. "Starsky, the only reason I've stayed on the force this long was because of you. I've wanted off the streets for a long time. I just can't do it anymore." His eyes clouded with misery. "I can't go through watching you get hurt again. It was too close this time."

"You really want us to do this, don't you?" Starsky said in a slow, thoughtful voice.

"Only if you do."

"I don't know." Starsky said, moving away from Hutch and leaning into the corner of the sofa. "It's all happening too fast…I need some time to think about it."

"Hey, take all the time you need, pal." Hutch said. "It's six months until the first of the year. Plenty of time for you to finish recovering and decide if this is what you wanna do or not. Captain Dobey said he'd give us a good recommendation. Hell, even Chief Ryan is all for it because of the Gunther case."

"Ryan's on our side?" Starsky said with a chuckle.

"Yeah. Ain't that a kick in the ass?" Hutch replied, chuckling back.

Starsky sighed softly and brushed his hand across his face. "Give me some time, Hutch." he said quietly. "It's all too much to take in right now." He shoved himself to his feet. "I'm gonna take a walk."

"Want some company?" Hutch asked

"I'd rather be alone for a bit if you don't mind."

Hutch nodded, understanding Starsky's need to have some time aone.

Starsky left the house and slowly started walking down the beach with his head down and his hands jammed into the pockets of his cutoffs. His mind was still reeling from the events of the day. As he walked, he let his thoughts drift back over the past six months since he'd been shot. His entire life had been changed in ways that could never be changed back. He had survived but at a price that was much higher than anyone could have anticipated. He'd lost his career and a huge part of his identify in the process. At thirty-six years of age, he was faced with starting over again, rebuilding his life and finding out where he fit in the scheme of things.

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with his mother two days ago, just before she returned to New York.

_"You're stronger than you think, David. You always have been. No matter what happens in the future, you will survive. God spared you for a purpose. It's up to you to decide what that is."_

He smiled ruefully. Was this what his mother meant? Had God spared his life so he could teach rookies how to be as good a cop as he had been? How to flaunt the rules to get the job done when they needed to? How to survive out there on the streets? At least he would still be a part of the only world he knew.

When Starsky had not returned to the house after being gone for over an hour, Hutch couldn't wait any longer before going in search of his friend. He followed Starsky's tracks in the sand for almost two miles before he finally spotted Starsky sitting on a rock overlooking the ocean. Starsky glanced up as Hutch sat down on the rock beside him.

"Miss me?" Starsky chided his partner.

"Just figured I'd better make sure you didn't take a wrong turn and end up going for a swim."

"Water's too cold." Starsky said with a chuckle. "Besides, I don't like to swim. You know that."

"Yeah, I know."

"I've been sitting here thinking."

"Don't strain yourself. Don't forget you're still recovering."

"Yeah, but I'm not an invalid anymore."

"So, have you come to any decisions?"

"If I can't be a cop anymore, I guess this is the next best thing."

"Hey, I'd say we've earned the right to give the rookies hell." Hutch said with a smile.

"Yeah, I pity the ones you end up with," Starsky said dryly. "You'll have them memorizing every period in the rule book."

"Naw, I'll let 'em skip the index." Hutch shot back, enjoying kidding with his partner once more. "How about you? You'll have 'em shooting the eye out of an ant at a hundred paces."

"Hey, even I'm not that good." Starsky grumbled. "I'll settle for the eye out of a grasshopper." Both men laughed, as they relaxed and enjoyed just being in each other's company. Against all odds, they had survived the ordeal and Starsky was getting stronger every day. And even if they would no longer be cops working the streets, they would still be the best of friends and partners in their hearts forever.

**Update June 31****st****, 1980.**

Starsky and Hutch did accept new positions and quickly became two of the most popular instructors at the Academy. They helped to train some of the best rookies the Academy had turned out. The two friends continued to share the beach house even after Starsky's recovery from his injuries. They had come to love the peace and solitude that the location offered.

James Gunther was eventually convicted of all the charges against him and would spend the rest of his life behind bars. His organization was brought down by two streetwise detectives who were the best at what they did. His biggest mistake was trying to kill one of those men.

Starsky surprised all of the doctors involved with his care by recovering almost completely from his injuries. Two years after the shooting, he had regained 95 percent of the function in his left arm, shoulder and hand. And his lung capacity was at 92 percent. The scars would always be there as a reminder of that dark day in May 1976 and Starsky had been forced to make some permanent changes in his dietary habits. But, he was more fit and in better shape physically than he'd ever been before. Above all else, he was a survivor and he had proved that once again.

**THE END**

**It is with much regret that this story finally comes to an end. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much.**


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